


Let Me Keep On Dreaming

by FiveTail, Pyreo



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humanised Yes Man, Robot/Human Relationships, Romance, Secret Crush, Severe Lack Of Self-Worth, Validating an AI's Sense of Self, Virtual Reality, and also regular Robot Yes Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveTail/pseuds/FiveTail, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreo/pseuds/Pyreo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes Man has been working on a project: constructing a virtual reality version of pre-war Vegas based on any clues and holotape videos he can find. He just wants the Courier to enjoy herself. And, well, maybe getting to project his consciousness into a human vessel in order to observe it all is something he'd enjoy too.</p><p>Fluff in Chapter 1, smut in Chapter 2. Ad-libbed resolution in Chapter 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written by two people in a kind of roleplay format with perspective shifts between each of our sections. It's also old - we did this back in 2010. Fivetail wrote Yes Man and Pyreo wrote the Courier, which have been separated by normal/bold lettering respectively for easier distinction. We wrote almost entirely off the cuff without planning anything beforehand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's a reference pic of the Courier and humanised Yes Man](http://pyreo.tumblr.com/post/73643477178/)

The bartender behind the counter stared at the glass of water in his hand. He watched as he wrapped his fingers around it, paying careful attention as how it held its form, even as his grip around it grew tighter.

His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. There was a pulse trembling rhythmically beneath his skin, keeping beat in time with a silent melody. He was warm. And... light.

This... all of this. No amount of human study could have prepared him for how this felt, or...how it was _to_ feel. His hold on the glass relaxed, and it fell from his hand, shattering against the counter. He gasped, muttering a hasty apology to no ear in particular. He took the washcloth dangling from his leather belt and set to work on the mess. (He had to be careful, he was human now, and glass had a reputation for injuring their kind.)

He gathered the shards into the cloth; once wrapping them into each other, he used the bottom of it to mop up the liquid from the countertop. (Thankfully, he'd practiced this whole 'having fingers' thing in previous demo simulations.) The sound of a piano drifted in from above.

_Like a shooting star, you appeared before me._

He glanced up from the table, just in time to see her stroll in. The motions he took to wipe down the counter slowed to a crawl, as he distracted himself with the full appreciation of her presence. (He knew she was coming, he'd timed this perfectly, but that didn't explain why his heart started beating faster, hopefully nothing was malfunctioning.) He felt warmer than usual, suddenly, but he blames his sudden neglect to breathe on being accustomed to _not having to_.

_Where have you been all my life?_

**She had never expected anything like** **_this_** **.**

**The idea of a virtual simulator had become fixed in her mind, regrettably, as a tool for preparing for war. Blame the only place she’d encountered them before, the Air Force Base, for that. She chided her own sense of creativity, having been outdone by a robot - one who saw this kind of potential in the simulators.**

**A completely different world. One where life was easy and clean, where the city was intact, and the air was sweet.**

**She couldn’t help noting how precious this living information was. She was experiencing a way of life forgotten for over 200 years. Perhaps she owed it to the world to find a way to bring this back to common knowledge. Gentle music moved the ballroom, where immaculately dressed couples twirled and bent in perfect symphony. Glasses tinkled and the swell of polite laughter was ever-present. She imagined she could hear the sheen of the chandelier above, crystal, suspended almost by decadence alone.**

**It was a memory - and a jewel of one. But there was no need for it to be anything other than** **_theirs_** **, for the moment.**

 **Beaming, Roxie adjusted her cream, devilishly decorated gown (crisp, shimmering, not a speck of dirt), and stepped down the remaining stairs to join the throng. She could appear as if she belonged anywhere, it was a talent. She could breeze into a conversation as if they’d been awaiting her fresh discussion all the while. It was like a chance to experience the world to which she** **_really_ ** **belonged.**

She was gorgeous.

That dress was one of his favourites to have designed for her, if only because it was so visually stimulating. Finally seeing her--the _real_ her--draped in its elegance fulfilled him. She seemed to like it well enough, too, so he didn't have to feel bad about putting her in it solely for his sake.

Roxie was enjoying herself, that was no secret--she was awed by the layout, _his_ layout, the one he spent weeks finding surviving adequate sources to research for, the one he spent months on reconstructing every detail. There was an entire city out there waiting for her, hopefully she'd enjoy herself out there, too. The look in her eyes made him feel more appreciated than he'd ever felt in his entire existence.

He tugged at the bottom of his vest and straightened his tie. Even if she was occupying herself with normal, wholesome conversations (he'd given every citizen their own personality, after all), he had to make sure he kept up appearances in the background, just to ensure everything and everyone was going according to programming. (He'd spend so much effort focusing on other details, he didn't consider applying some of those attributes to himself. Not that it mattered--there were 1,472 people in this space, she shouldn't be interested in his company, not after all the time they spent together in reality.)

One of the waiters swung by holding an empty tray, and he reloaded it with tall, exquisite glasses of the finest champagne. Out of everything, taste was the hardest to simulate in this realm, seeing as he'd never experienced it himself, but tried his best. He turned his back to the dancing crowd and took down a random bottle of whiskey from the glass shelf to polish it; most of the audio in this space was purposefully dulled to his perception, just so he could hear her properly. Just to make sure everything was going according to her happiness.

**Time passed at an intense speed as she became immersed. She integrated quickly with a certain group, well dressed and decorated like all the rest, she talked to them, and she gained their acceptance easily enough. They moved to sit at a table, sending orders for more drinks, discussing the day-to-day tribulations of life in pre-War Vegas. No threat from attacks by drug-addled tribals. No danger of radiation leaks poisoning this season’s crops. Nothing at all about sweeping factions blighting the area and vying for control of the Strip.**

**It was a different world. New Vegas emulated the style well enough - she was accustomed to the fine looking clothes, the lights, the furniture, the music. But it was a different world entirely. These people were safe. And Roxie felt safe being a part of them, in a way she’d never truly felt before. War... war had never happened.**

**An hour had gone by before she’d even thought to check the time, by the time she had, two. The talk was easy enough to adjust to, the affectations not hard to adopt. A woman named Fiona seemed to have taken a liking to her, and as Roxie kept up the facade of a tourist so as to explain her lack of current knowledge, she was treated to glittering descriptions of the city’s current affairs - all true. All based on information stored and kept away in the dark for so long. Roxie had taken to fidgeting with her right earring - such a strange concept, she had to admire the devotion to elegance these people had - and nodded as Fiona excused herself briefly. The man who’d been seated beside her, his name she thought she’d caught as Roger, sent her a welcome smile in their blockade’s absence.**

**“Think that’s enough chat for now, eh, new girl? Think I need to stretch my legs. How about we make it a real party, you join me for a dance.”**

**She found herself standing to meet him and pressing her hand into his offered one with ready eagerness. She smirked. In here? This would be** **_something_** **.**

**“Sure thing, mister, if you can keep up with me.”**

He'd planned it this way.

Every person inviting, warm and friendly and agreeable, each with their own unique quirks and dialogue. The conversations felt natural--as natural as his own computations could fathom. Roxie's eyes were sparkling more than the dress or the jewelry or the crystals he'd placed in such strategic places a calm, multi-coloured glow twinkled in every near-forgotten corner, and he couldn't explain it. There was a newfound joy emanating from her, one he would never have been able to appreciate in his common form, and it made her shine. The worry had almost evaporated from her expression. He'd never seen her when she wasn't concerned about one thing or another--the introduction, the take-over, the running of the city. She deserved a break, a vacation away from all that. Perhaps what he could provide her with was worthy enough.

Every piece of decor, every shade of colour, every design in every floor tile was created, meticulously, by him. He planned this. So why was witnessing Program 843-B (also known as 'Roger') take Roxie's worked, willing hand into his own filling him with such...what was the word for this...

Uneasiness?

He chuckled to himself, relaxing, before continuing to wipe down the counters. _That's right_ , it felt wrong because Roger was a Program, and not one of the carefully-constructed Interests he'd created for her. Roxie spent enough time telling stories for him to figure out which traits she found most admirable in an Interest. He'd already constructed a city for his Eve, why not create an Adam to go along with it, right? He smiled to himself again, a little wider.

 _His_ Eve. That sounded kind of nice.

 **Suffice to say, this wasn’t what she had** **_expected_ ** **at all. When she’d come into this world, a beautiful construction in its entirety, an interactive and wonderful history lesson, she’d at first thought it to be more of a visit - a tour. The world would run on its own terms, as of course it always did, and she would merely observe with the inhabitants taking no more interest in her than a passing stranger. She’d assumed that Yes Man would join her and show her around his little... project. And yet he hadn’t seemed to come in with her. Not only that, but far from being a projection, the world virtually welcomed her to participate in it.**

**It was well above and beyond anything she’d have thought he’d set his mind to. She thought, as she and Roger joined the group of perfectly synchronised ballroom dancers on the polished central floor, that this was an achievement in itself unlike anything the world had ever known.**

**Then the music beat went up, and jazz began to sweep them all into an energetic dance made all the more impressive by the dozen or so couples who could match each other’s movements to the letter. She felt Roger’s hand leave hers and immediately catch it again, and her feet maintaining a parallel with his of their own accord. She had no programming to rely on to dance with, only a quick reaction time and a few weeks of casual practice, but she found it no trouble to keep time. Roger was leading, after all.**

**And, as he dipped her back on cue and her leg rose at the side of him, she started to think that being led wasn’t such a bad feeling.**

He tried not to watch--really, he did. The isolated audio should’ve sufficed as means to keep track of her. Yet, he could hear the smile in her voice, the happiness and complete joy decorating her laughter, and he just had to see her for himself. He just had to.

He sighed a little before turning to face the dance floor, assuring himself that she was far too distracted by her current company to pay any attention to what he was doing. He didn’t quite understand the term ‘poetry in motion’ until he saw them dance.

Dancing seemed like such a methodical process--the odd, unnatural movement and shifting of feet to the rhythm of music. And yet, it was so wholesome, so _all-consuming_. The subtle blare of trumpets backed by piano keys and gentle crooning guided their movements, swiftly, gracefully, back and forth across the floor. All he could focus on was her. Her body moved smoothly, and her dress followed, eyes and adornments glittering beneath the lights he’d so carefully lain out for her. She was so nearby, and yet so far out of his reach.

He sighed again, and it sounded...wistful. A surprising amount of time had passed since they began running the program, yet even though she only meant to be in here an hour, he didn’t want to break her joy by telling her she’d been here triple the time. There was nothing pressing she was waiting for today, and he was keeping a close monitor of the outside world in the process. So he let her have her fun, while she could, for as long as she could, in case they didn’t get another chance. And so he booted up the first Interest, spawning him a couple of blocks down the road and on his way here. If the music made her happy, imagine how happy she’d be after meeting him.

**When the jazz number ended, she was almost in too much of a blissful daze to notice how Roger pulled off a fancier flourish than the others, or how they’d ended up in the centre of the floor with a wide distance free around them. The other dancers knew when to step aside.**

**“Nice moves, babe,” Roger winked, his hand meeting her amiably around the waist.  
**

**“Hey, mind if I cut in?”**

**Another man introduced himself beside them, his own girl in tow, hand outstretched and offering to trade partners.**

**“C’mon, Tony, I only just met this one.”**

**“Well, y’oughta share.”**

**“All right-- well, if it’s okay with you--”**

**He nodded to Roxie, giving her reign of the decision, to which she sidestepped to Tony’s side and hooked her arm around his.**

**“No problem. Let’s keep this interesting.”**

**“Oh, hang on, doll,” Tony smiled towards her, pointing apologetically at the bar. “I need to get me a drink first.”**

**Roger and Tony’s previous girl indicated their mutual interest as Tony took a step away, but Roxie patted his shoulder to a stop.**

**“I’ll take care of it, you fellas keep going. That really wore me out.”**

**She watched them resume their moves to the next song, which set the mood as a tad less jaunty and more sublime. There had been a rising fear in her of screwing up the dancing due to getting in over her head - although it hardly even figured in her mind that the programs would be perfect by design, she was starting to consider them too much as real people for that.**

**Roxie made her way to the bar and leaned onto the polished wood, brushing back some loose hair. Her vision was still mainly distracted by the dancers, and beyond that, the lavish state of the entire establishment.**

**“Hey, uhh, can I get four more of whatever you’re serving?”**

He’d returned to his normal station when the music stopped, just so no one would catch him staring. His back to her, he froze in position.

This wasn’t supposed to happen--he’d made sure to give every man here a uniquely-programmed gentleman upgrade, which specifically included _getting drinks for the girl they were with_. What was she _doing_ here in the first place, so far from the center of attention?

(It’s alright, it’s fine, it’s okay. Play it cool. And calm. She won’t suspect a thing.)

He was malfunctioning under the pressure already, by the way his hands were trembling.

“So that’s...four champagnes then, miss?”

**“Sure, if that’s what everybody wants.”**

**Only after saying it did she realise something didn’t sound right. She turned to find the barkeep, a little sharply, and ended up hoping she didn’t seem too startled. Suddenly she found herself looking over this guy. Tilting her head a little. She wasn't not sure why just yet, but there was something there.**

“Coming right up!”

He ran a hand through his well-groomed hair (which settled back into flawless place afterwards), and set to work on the glasses, back still turned to her as if she’d recognize his face. In hindsight, it was a silly thing to be concerned about, but there’s not exactly hindsight tied within the moment.

Maybe if he just got the focus taken off of him for a bit, just long enough to give her her drinks and leave.

“Having fun out there?”

 **“Of course-- you see us out there? Most** **_fun_ ** **I’ve had in a long time--”**

 **Her voice was calm and collected while most of her attention settled firmly on** **_this guy_** **. She wanted to prompt him for a response, to hear him again. Something about him sounded so... reassuring. She was running on no lack of confidence.**

**“You’re jumpy, huh? What’s eating you, first night on the job, or something?”**

**And she maked little effort to hide that playful glint in her eye.**

He chuckled, warmly. “Ah, you _could_ say that! Just trying to get used to running things around here!”

Finally, he turned to face her, keeping his head low as he lined up the intricately-designed champagne glasses on the counter in front of her. He retrieved a bottle of the house’s finest from the cupboard store.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see you out there, though! You...are a _wonderful_ dancer, miss.” He tipped the bottle against the rim of the first glass.

**“Thanks.”**

**He sounded almost** **_too_ ** **familiar. Not that she was sure in what capacity this bartender was programmed unlike the others, but there was another disparity in his appearance. Compared to every other man, around he wasn't slick, he wasn't not the same kind of chiseled and sheer sort of handsome. He was the only one of his kind in this room.**

**“So... you got a name on you? Look, how about you and I head over there and pick up the next song - there’s a dozen other waiters around to cover for you. What do you say?”**

**She wouldn’t have felt this hopeful, this** **_unsure_** **, with any of those overconfident men here tonight.**

“You...want to dance? With _me_?”

He overpoured liquid into the second glass by accident--he quickly pulled the bottle away and took out another small handcloth from under the counter. The request didn’t quite sink in the first time around; he thought himself so detached from the scenario, an overseer, he’d forgotten he was _actually here_.

He wiped down the countertop (again). “Whe-hell, I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Miss! I’m _sure_ you’ll be able to find a _much_ more suitable dance partner than me! Why, I wouldn’t know where to begin!” He cleared his throat, and finished off the mess. “Name’s Ernest, by the way, but you can call me Ernie if you--”

The side of his finger brushed against hers as he cleaned, and he retracted his hand as if he’d touched fire. That small, brief contact alone sent a literal spark through him.

He smiled nervously, realizing how much he must’ve seemed to overreact to such a tiny occurrence. (He’d never felt anything of the sort before.)

“Oops!” he laughed. “Static electricity, haha!”

**She joined his laugh, leaning her elbow on the countertop and resting her chin in her hand.**

**“So, Ernie-- seems like a sign, don’t you think? Nice to meet you, I’m Roxie.”**

**She flashed him her most flirtatious smile. There wasn’t much doubt left at this point, but no way she’d be tipping her hand this early.**

**“C’mon, don’t be shy.** **_Everyone_ ** **in Vegas knows how to dance. You probably don’t get asked much, back here, but hey... give it a shot?”**

**Her fingers had walked across the bar and found the front of his vest, skittering up it and giving the material a playful stroke.**

**“For me?”**

_Why him_?

He’d surrounded her with so many other captivating, compelling, interesting folks to talk to, so why was she back here _with him_?

He didn’t quite know the answer to that at all; what he did know was that little smile of hers was making him feel wonderful in a very odd way, like it was warm (which it was) and genuine (which was probably) and meant for him, only him (which might have been).

“I... umm... this--this isn’t how things are supposed to go!”

That was it, all of it, _this didn’t compute with him, it denied all sense_. But then her hand rested against him, softly, and not much of anything made sense anymore. The contact compelled him, gave him a strange urge he’d never felt the full effect of before--he needed to _touch her_. While...he was the way he was.

And so his hand wrapped around hers before she had a chance to pull it away, and suddenly he’s pressing her palm to his chest until he knows she feels his heartbeat-- _his_ heart _beat_ \--and suddenly everything was _real_. The instrumentals floating through the air became familiar once more. If there was one thing the future was lacking, it was a surviving variety of music, yet it was warm with recognition.

**Her smile had faded as he resisted, but then, as he seemed to accept the idea on his own terms, her insecurity abated and her teasing smile melted into something more genuine. Relieved. She began to guide him, hand-in-hand, across the patent floor back to the dancers who were finishing their current energetic number and pulling off their final touches in their whirls and twirls.**

**She squeezed his hand.** **_His_ ** **hand. Try not to think too hard, don’t let on, it’s just the same as she did a minute ago.**

 **She glimpsed Roger and Tony heading to the bar to pick up their drinks left behind. Perfect. Nothing to worry about. She realised she’d been pointedly holding onto Ernie** **_behind her_ ** **as if she hadn’t wanted to see him - because, she realised as she turned and brought him to her side, something fairly** **_terrible_ ** **happened inside her when she did.**

**He was completely singular. She knew she could spend the rest of her days in this town and never find someone who looked or felt like him. She could have stared at him for days and never stopped being surprised. She couldn’t help it if she found him the most attractive man she’d ever seen. The band started up on a slower number, a reprise from earlier.**

**_All at once I’ve found someone to adore me._ **

**The dancers took their positions. Roxie found herself slightly breathless as the space between their bodies closed and their palms met in the air. She couldn’t tell which one of them was trembling.**

**_Where have you been all my life_** **?**

His hand naturally drifted to rest on her waist, from countless minutes of watching the others dance; the movement shifted her closer to him, close enough for him to realize _she had a scent_ , close enough for it to have intoxicated him. It was some kind of perfume, something delicate and expensive.

“Sorry,” he whispered, but he brings her in against him anyway.

He was taller than her, as he always was, so when he pressed his cheek to the side of her head in order to hide his smile, it just felt... _right_.

“Well, looks like you got me out here...” he chuckled. “You seem like you’d make a _very_ good leader.” The music began to swell, and he shifted to encourage her to move alongside him. “Lead away.”

**She was paying way too much attention to how he sounded, most likely, but it was hard not to when the timbre of his voice made her smile like this. She hid her grin against his shoulder just until all the couples on the dance floor began to move, and then it was time, and they kept a perfect distance from each other as her feet led the way. Not that she’d ever led in a dance before, and she knew full well they’d get weird looks if the woman was calling the shots. But then there was subtlety. And that was something to take advantage of.**

**For the first minute she had to concentrate entirely on keeping time, on matching the general movements of the others - thank goodness it was a slow song. Her steps were gentle and fluid, branching out around them as if connecting all the tiles on the floor in musical sequence. She had to guide him, too, and was only too happy to - the sensation of being the one to support him and carry him on made her practically swell with pride.**

**Then as they settle into the rhythm she was able to calm herself, lose the nervous edge, and start to appreciate what they were doing right now. They were dancing.** **_Together_** **. And he was closer than she ever thought would be possible. If this night never ended, she’d have no complaints.**

He hadn't had that many moments in this life, but he was still pretty sure this could qualify as a perfect one.

He was being careful--god, so careful. He didn't know how to dance, he wouldn't be able to learn until they'd rebooted again, but he couldn't say no to her. He had the power to, for the first time in his life, but he couldn't. She moved him across the floor and he followed, his hand on her waist sweeping her body in turn. Everything would be fine, so long as he didn't get too eager and begin stepping on her toes or stumbling all over the place or doing something to ruin this moment, this perfect moment.

He may not have known how to dance, but he did have flawless, inherent coordination on his side.

He wasn't sure what it meant, having her hand-pick him from a crowd, her not having the slightest idea of who he really was. Maybe it was something in the programming, maybe he'd messed something up so that she recognized him without even knowing it. But he closed his eyes as his nose brushed against her hair, and he moved with her, and there was nothing in this good world that would get him to complain about it. She was a wonderful dancer.

"You're wonderful," he hummed, in a sing-song kind of way.

...whoops.

**“You’re not so bad yourself, Ernie,” she murmured back, revelling in how much he was allowing their bodies to connect. “I told you, everyone can dance.”**

**Acting as though what he’d said was no more than a little praise for their abilities hopefully put off anyone having to admit what they knew just yet. Not that he hadn’t just given every bit of himself away. Not that she’d almost wanted to press a sigh against the side of his neck for saying that, for really saying it, while there were no rules and no restrictions.**

**The song began to draw to a close, and all that crossed her mind was that they were** **_going to make it_** **, both of them, blundering their way through an entire world of computational perfection. They were going to make it, even though they had no idea what they were doing, even though they were making it up as they went along. The final few notes were played, and it stirred in Roxie a sudden sense of urgency. What if this song was all they had? What if she’d been wrong, or she couldn’t expect to game the logic of this world more than this? What if this was it?**

**If this was it, she could no more stop herself from completing their one moment together as she could stop the moon from rising.**

**On the final chord, she stood on her tiptoes and caught his eye, allowing them to hover in uncertainty for a moment longer. A flicker of a smile caught her, just before her hand cradled his cheek and her lips found his.**

He wasn't sure what this was, at first. It took a second to settle in that her lips were touching his. The impact hadn’t become apparent to him--it was skin touching skin, no physical difference than what they’d been doing before--but the more he tried convincing himself of the difference’s non-existence, the more and more different it became.

He processed sensation at a much faster rate; to her, he must’ve pulled away almost instantly.

“Wh...what are you...” He mouthed the words, but there was barely a voice behind it. As quickly as he pulled away from the kiss, his hands rested on her shoulders, and he leaned down to start it once more. Just to try. Just to see if that static was still there, even if the electricity wasn’t. He kept his eyes open, processing every plausible scenario and explanation and anomaly that had a chance of explaining this. As he seized the opportunity to tighten his grasp and _hold her_ as he’d imagined, he was still trying to reason through the unreasonable.

Everything indicated this course of action was wrong. Everything. Yet, it was the first time anything _felt_ right. He was nothing more than a stranger in the background to her, she was drawn to him on random chance, a stroke of misprogrammed fate. He wouldn’t be here again. He couldn’t. Not while _he meant nothing_. He’d programmed those Interests for a reason, after all. The last thing she needed was him holding her hand everywhere she went in a world that was supposed to be an escape from reality. It didn’t matter that he _could_ hold her hand in the first place.

His hands slid down her arms, and he twined his fingers through hers, just so he never forgot what that felt like. He created a whole world for her, and yet he could be no part of it.

Breaking the kiss, he tugged her in closer, shutting his eyes and giving a shaky sigh as he touched foreheads with her. And _felt her_ leaning back against him.

**“You okay?”**

**She hadn’t really thought about what this might’ve done to him. She can’t really know. Kissing him was something she** **_had_ ** **to do, just had to, it was impossible to suppress for any longer now that the conditions allowed her to. This moment had been a long time coming. She couldn’t have been more grateful that they’d finally reached it, or that his diligence alone had placed it in the middle of a virtual fairytale.**

**“Sorry about that - I’m really not... usually so forward.”**

**She was terrified when he’d pulled away that he was rejecting her. It would have been the first time. It wasn’t enough to program it and let it happen. She wanted him to** **_want_ ** **it. He could say no and shoot her down - he had that right, now. And only with that right in effect did this mean anything, did this... finally become something worth pursuing. She’d always** **_tried_ ** **to treat him with the consideration that any person deserved, and now they were here, he deserved to know what she saw in him. He needed to know, no matter what.**

**And her confidence had been restored as he’d drawn her back in and kissed her himself. What an earth must he have thought, just barely having attained human senses and all at once... probably forced in over his head. How much could a computer know of tenderness? Was that why he was resting forward against her, eyes closed, was he barely holding onto himself as he had to process an entire concept into his being?**

**"You’re pretty... wonderful yourself. I-- really, I don’t usually go this fast, it’s... something** **_about you_ ** **. Something about this whole town makes you want to have fun and take chances.”**

 **She wanted him to open his eyes. She wanted to see that blue intensity again to prove he didn’t** **_regret this_** **. She wanted to hope against hope that it was possible for him to feel the same about her. She wanted him, in the worst** **_possible_ ** **way. But only if he wanted her back.**

He chucked, and pulled himself away from her, walking backwards until his hands slid down the length of her outstretched arms and their fingers broke contact. She was reaching for him, consciously or otherwise.

“That’s... that’s the _funny_ thing, this whole town is _supposed_ to make you want to try... _new_ things! You know... get out _there_ and... _explore_!”

Nearly tripping over himself in retreat, he shook his head (he’ll never get used to the sensation of his hair touching the sides of his face). None of this made sense. He had to keep hold of what his purpose was, and that was to keep her happy. If she wasn’t happy with her reality, he had to distance her from it. And he was part of that reality. It’s the reason why she was drawn to him for no good reason. He was a direct link to what she once knew; he was there to supervise, watch, ensure the separation between what was real and what was not was clear-cut in her mind. Getting involved with this, _any of this_ , ran the risk of confusing her.

Confusing him.

“Miss, I--I _think_ there’s been some mistake!” Another nervous laugh. “I’m not... _here_ for those kinds of things, this city has far more suitable...adequate... _well-equipped_ choices, I’m...see, I’m just _not good enough_. I’m not meant to be.” He’d felt more at ease, now that there was a slight distance between them. The anxiousness had worn its welcome. “Keep your eyes peeled, though! I’ve a feeling there’s _someone_ nearby who’s been _dying_ to meet you!”

 **_Not meant to be_** **?**

**She could practically feel herself bristling in denial. She might even have accepted one of those excuses if they hadn’t all been fractured, unable to settle on a salient reason.**

**“I’m... I’m sorry if that scared you. I did go kind of fast.”**

**She wasn't not giving up, not now that they’ve** **_found_ ** **each other. At the very least, she’d fix things back up. She was used to resorting to anything necessary to get what she wants, even if it involved leaving corpses in her wake. If he just** **_can’t_ ** **... then it’s something she’d have to deal with. He wanted to get away from this. ...But he’d kissed back.**

 **“Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? There’s someone out there for you! I’m sure you’re worth a** **_lot_ ** **to somebody somewhere.” Don’t break. Don’t beg. Don’t let on** **_just yet_ ** **. “I-it was nice meeting you.”**

**Her smile is practiced, but you’d never know.**

“Likewise!” he chirped, and for the first time that evening he _felt_ unreal, that familiar, false-happy voice he couldn’t shrug in reality because it was in his programming. But the voice was in his control, now. And it made him feel terrible. She couldn’t possibly know that he wasn’t worth anything to anyone. What was he, ultimately? Lines of code, rehashed and reprogrammed and reworked into disposable vessels. That’s what he was, after all. Disposable. She’d forget him in no time.

He eased backwards until the music swelled once more and all sight of him got lost in a newly formed crowd. She wouldn’t be seeing him again. He’d have to learn to keep his distance better next time, even if all of these _human_ thoughts are telling him to keep her close and possibly never let go.

But those were _human_ thoughts. They didn’t belong to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**The music began again. The world moved on. People danced.**

**Roxie didn’t. It took a second for her to regain her composure and, now alone in a sea of symmetry, leave the ballroom to the couples. What the hell had come over her?**

**He would never have wanted her. It was probably beyond his comprehension. So what if he was briefly human - did she want to destroy a functional, necessary relationship in the hope that having a body would betray him, let her manipulate him as she did other men? She felt disgusted with herself. She would have abandoned herself to the bar, if that hadn’t been where this all started.**

**On her way to the exit she passed by the kind of man that, before tonight, she’d have called the one she’d been looking for. He was tall, his hair a dusky brown, his eyes deep and mysterious, and the smile he greeted her with - perfect. She passed him without a second look. She needed to think. This was not two strangers walking away from each other, lost into the crowds. This was between her and, though he may not know it, her business partner. It was on her shoulders to make sure she could face him tomorrow. If nothing else, he would deserve to know the truth.**

The life of the party died down, unlike Vegas clubs of the pre-war times which survived and flourished and lit up until daybreak, and only when the door shuts behind fleeting patrons for the last time that he realized he’d been staring into nothing, for ages, trying to make sense of the nonsensical.

For a brief moment, they were together on a level not known to him, personally. He’s read about it and studied it and was a witness in passing when it came to Benny being around, but he was beginning to understand why it was such a big deal to humans. Companionship, and the seething inability to cope with being alone.

Here he was. Alone. By choice. He didn’t make a very _good_ human, did he?

It didn’t matter, though. What would she have thought if she knew? What was worse--knowingly ending up with a false projection of everything you’d ever wanted, or unknowingly becoming involved with a glorified servant who’d disguised themselves beyond knowledge? This entire night had been a disaster! She wasn’t... _happy_ at all. His fists clenched at the thought, and he didn’t know why the disappointment had spawned a physical reaction. He’d poured effort into this world. Meticulous, unwavering, dedicated effort, just to see her happy. And he’d... failed.

Everything was fine until she found him. Her one anchor to reality. The one thing that reminded her none of this was real. He’d convinced himself he had no effect, until he watched as she stormed past the Interest he’d developed for her. Something was wrong; he’d _made something wrong_. Something fervent and fierce and compelling was driving through his newly-formed veins. He shot to his feet, lifted a nearby glass from the counter with a grip once strong enough to destroy, and cast it onto the barren dance floor until it shattered, glistening fragments scattered like diamonds against the ground where they once stood, together.

His expression softened, immediately, at the sight of his chaos. His own, personal, human chaos. He retreated back into himself, hanging his head in the lonely silence.

“...sorry.”

**“Sir? Are you all right?”**

**One of the other waiters approached him, hands behind his back in calm disaffection.**

**“Were you apologising to anyone in particular for breaking that?”**

The waiter had surprised him; he jumped a little, but straightened up to face the guy properly.

“Yeah, actually!” Uneasy laughter. “I was... apologizing... to the _glass_. Personally, I don’t think it appreciated the ride.”

 **“...Fair enough,” the waiter only half pretended not to roll his eyes, “perhaps you should stand aside while some more competent servers take care of this. Here. Lucky for you, you have somewhere else to be. Perhaps you’ll find that glass didn’t ah...** **_deserve_ ** **it after all.”**

**He extended his hand, delicate paper held out between his manicured fingers.**

**“It was left for you, forwarded by reception.”**

**They waited for him to move aside, as he clutched the scrap of paper in his hand and opened it at the first opportunity.**

**_“If for any reason you change your mind, I’m in room 101._ **

**** **** **** **_\--- Roxie.”_ **

**She’d even dotted her i with a heart.**

“Oh, ah... thank you.”

He moved to let them pass, eyes not leaving the note for a moment. There that malfunctioning body of his went again. Forgetting how to breathe. Perhaps all hope was not lost. He’d meant not to be spotted again after today, but if he just went up there to explain what had happened, maybe she’d understand why he had to let her go... well... _do her own thing_. He had no place in her fantasies, she’d understand. Then she could be happy again. He folded the note neatly away, slipping it into his back pocket.

First, he needed to change.

**How long was she even going to get, before the program closed? Was there a safety timer? Would she be removed now that the party had run its course? She was hoping to not have to face him in the form to which she was accustomed before settling things with the one she’d become unravelled with.**

**Still in her dress - her beautiful, why-can’t-I-keep-this dress, she had sat on the plush hotel bed and dropped backwards, almost giving in to exhaustion. But she’d stay awake.**

**Just until she was sure he wasn’t going to come.**

He could’ve always _just shut it off_.

The entire time, this program was under his complete and direct control. If anything happened, if anything _went wrong_ , it was easy to pull the plug. But he _hadn’t_ yet, because things felt _better_ in this space, and if he’d wronged her _here_ , it only made sense to mend those problems _here_. It made pretending everything was alright once they snapped out of it that much more believable. He’d changed into something more suitable for meeting here here; he spawned a tuxedo for himself, not unlike what the patrons were wearing, because if was going to apologize in-person, _he was going to do it right_.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t quite gotten used to the concept of his own personal measurements--his sleeves were too long and he’d forgotten to create cufflinks and he figured tying a tie wouldn’t be all that hard so he assumed he’d have it done by the time he got to her door.

Well, there he was. Two lengths of his tie hanging uselessly around his neck. This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

He unfolded the note from his back pocket again as he idled in the hallway, and eventually got enough courage to knock on the door. He’d kept her waiting long enough.

**She grasped the knob. Swallowed. Exhaled, and then hoped it hadn’t been to loud. She quickly smoothed out her dress again, and opened the door.**

**She really hadn’t expected to see him so dishevelled. And there it was again - that little skip of a beat, the split second that went missing because he absorbed her attention to utterly. Giving him up was going to be that hardest thing she’d ever had to do.**

**“Hey, what... what happened? Rough night?”**

**She honestly** **_was concerned_** **, but she’s still smiling again. It’s his own fault.**

“You _could_ say that.” Why was she smiling suddenly, he thought she was upset? Maybe coming up here was a mistake after all, but...

He rubbed at the back of his neck, just because he had nothing to do with his _hands_ when he felt this anxious and it was weird having them just _dangle_ there. It was also weird to be staring at her like this, when she had an opportunity to stare back at him. She hadn’t changed since their dance and she was as stunning as he remembered her, just that short, magical time ago.

“Listen...” he started. “I...came up here to talk to you about what _happened_. You left in such a hurry, I thought I’d never have a chance to come back and explain. See, I’m...”

He finally met her eyes again, and something in his chest began to tighten. Is this what being scared felt like?

**“No, no, shh, you don’t have to. It isn’t you.”**

**She shouldn’t** **_be_ ** **smiling. But he’d come back, right? He knew they could talk as soon as they left the simulation and yet he came back, to extend their time on the same wavelength. The only time when they could possibly achieve certain things.**

 **“I haven’t ever been so forward with a guy like that. Jumped into so much. I’ve never asked a guy to dance. But it’s..." Stay on track. Don’t stare too much. She edged closer, reaching out to him. “It’s Vegas, right? Like you said... time to try new things? So, why not...” She was at his side, looking up at him, her hand slipping into his once again. Just to know him like this, just...** **_one_ ** **last time. “Why** **_not_ ** **...?” Her arms fit around him, more of a hug. She’s pressing her head against his shoulder.**

 **“Please?” Her eyes fall closed, and she listens to his heart beat. “** **_Yes Man_** **...”**

**And she froze in fear. It was the weirdest thing to have said. She’d left herself too unguarded. She wasn’t used to guarding herself, with him around.**

“You... you knew?”

It came out as a whisper between stuttered breaths. How could she still hold him after knowing who he was? How could this make him feel as if the world were crashing around them at this very moment when there was nothing, nothing but calm, warmth, and still? He’d tried to keep secret from her, how did this... happen?

He decided to stop trying to explain it--less of a decision, but more of an instant reaction as he wrapped his arms around her and held her, tight. Nothing could explain this. Nothing should be able to. He was _holding_ her, and they were _alone_ , and she _accepted him completely_ and _there was no reason he had to stay away anymore_.

No reason he had to stay away.

“You _knew_...” he repeated, relieved against her shoulder, and before now he’d never known a sob could sound _happy_.

**She knew that voice so well, and this was the first time she’d legitimately heard it break. Instinctively, she squeezed him against her as tightly as she could, arms firmly around his shoulders.**

**“Of... of** **_course_ ** **I knew, you think I could be put in a room of people and not pick you out? I know how you sound, how--” She stopped herself. This was going too fast, judging by how he reacted before. This wasn’t how she’d wanted him to find out. She just wasn’t good at keeping her desires to herself when they became this strong.**

 **“I’m** **_sorry_** **, okay, I should’ve let you know right away, but it seemed so... I don’t know, it was special, pretending to... starting over like** **_this_** **, I...”**

**She just couldn’t keep her thoughts in order. She didn't relax her hold on him for a second, pawing at him a little, grasping for him to stay close no matter what.**

**“I was so excited for us to...” Keep it together. Falling apart at this point would be the last thing he needs. She couldn’t explain how much she wanted him right now. If he knew how much she cared, how much she was hoping, he’d adjust himself to accommodate her.**

**So she didn't say it.**

**“Can you forgive me?”**

He felt his face getting wet, just a little, and pulled himself from her embrace before he ruined her dress. That... that wasn’t supposed to happen. Sure, he’d outlined himself with a normal human template, but emotional response wasn’t supposed to supersede base responses, and...she’d seen him _crying_ now, that wouldn’t really help her outlook of him in this form, he’d...definitely have to make some adjustments when they rebooted.

He was smiling as he kept his vision to the carpet, wiping the stray tears from beneath his eyes with a knuckle.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, there’s nothing to forgive! If you think about it, it’s actually _my_ fault this happened, if I wasn’t so _selfish_ I could’ve just asked you outright if I should _be_ here!”

He knew she wasn’t...that kind of person, one who threw herself at strangers’ mercies. Not that he’d ever _think_ that of her, but direct observation of her handling herself in reality didn’t _lie_ , either.

“I hope...I hope you’re not acting like you want to keep me around for _my_ sake. I should’ve assumed a more _inconspicuous_ position, or changed the tone of my _voice_ here...” He started picking invisible lint from her shoulders. “Um... I’m probably _mistaken_ about this seeing as you _obviously_ know _best_ , but... don’t you think there might’ve been... a _less intrusive_ way to out my being here? I mean, with the _dancing_ and the _kissing_...” He chuckled, light-hearted. “You’re a _much_ better pretender than I am, Roxie, but you really should be more _careful_! People around here might get some _ideas_ about us!”

**He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all.**

**"People around here?”**

**He was intent on disengaging from her, standing aside, for some reason, he rejected every attempt she made to bring them together. Was that just how he was? Was it beyond him to accept it? Or was she just not his** **_type_** **?**

 **"You think I** **_care_ ** **\-- people around here-- they’re not** **_people_ ** **! They’re bits of a** **_program_** **, who** **_cares_ ** **what they think--”**

 **Considering who she was talking to, that probably wasn’t the politest thing to have said, but it’s too late to correct herself. All she can think about is how wrong he is, how what she really wanted out of this world was to walk out in front of everyone with him and have** **_everybody know_** **. She wanted everyone to see them together. It was what this simulation could give her that nothing else could, and it had inadvertently become all she wanted out of it.**

 **He was crying. He was crying** **_for the first time ever_** **, in front of her, and acting like that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t even know why he was.**

 **"D’you think I did... everything I did... because I was trying to call you out?” Not because he was finally here for her to show affection to? “Like I thought I’d spend my evening** **_toying_ ** **with you?!” Not realising a long-held, hidden dream she’d thought too impossible to ever exist?**

**She kept on reaching for him even as he backs away, desperate to hold him close again. The finite amount of time that exists for her to hold him in is forever pressing on her mind. She felt like crying, herself, by this point, but now it’s superceded by anger, desperate and raw, as she runs out of ways to reveal this to him without breaking into his subservient subroutines and rendering everything pointless. Why couldn’t he just understand?**

**“You have no idea what I want--”**

**She swallowed hard, fixing him with a despondent stare. Hoping this wouldn’t ruin him.**

**“** **_Say it_** **. You have** **_no idea_ ** **what I want.”**

“U...um...”

His fingers found themselves, and he twisted them together, anxiously. She was upset, that was no secret--but she was upset _at him_ and it gave him this funny feeling in his chest, and for some reason he had a suspicion this was how she was feeling right now but _why was he feeling it too_? He hadn’t linked them together, not in that way, he...this must’ve been what they called empathy. It hurt. And he had no clue how to fix this.

The only remaining possibility--the reason why she got so upset at the accusation--was that... it was false. That tonight’s events weren’t to call him out on his identity, that...she knew who he was and _engaged him_ _anyway_ based on it.  That she was interested _in him_.

As he leveled her eyes, he was faced with a choice. The choice to say no. The choice to walk away from this, feigning ignorance for both their sakes, stopping whatever was happening in its tracks and letting her go get on with her existence here alongside someone who was more worthy of her company. The choice of _letting her go_.

He smiled at her, before resting his hands on her arms, more gently than before, and leaning in to touch his lips against hers. He pulled away, rather unsure of himself.

“I have no idea what you want.”

Even if he did, she was the one who ordered him to say it.

 **Why did he keep doing this. Acting like he’s willing to go along with any of this and then just as quickly leaving her high and dry - until tonight she had no idea kisses could** **_be_ ** **that short. He may not be saying** **_no_ ** **out loud, but compared to every other encounter of this nature she can remember, by not letting it happen he might just as well be shooting her down.**

 **“Okay-- good, now.. okay, tell me one thing. Let’s think about you for** **_a second_** **.” She was aware of tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she’d do everything she could to keep them in check. “Just tell me what** **_you_ ** **want to do. Right now. We’re both right here, and there’s nobody else around, what--” She swallowed hard to keep her voice from shaking, fists clenched at her chest, fingers digging into her palms.**

 **“What do** **_you want_** **?”**

“I want...” He breathed another small laugh. “You know, that’s...that’s the first time anyone’s _asked_ me that before! I...”

He stopped himself. Now wasn’t the time.

What _did_ he want? If he’d be asked a month ago, the only thing that would’ve come to mind was to see his owner succeed. It was what he was programmed to want, and robots didn’t _usually_ go outside the parameters of their programming, suffice it to say. That one goal, that main objective, that one _want_ hadn’t changed, but something inside of him _did_. When he wanted _Benny_ to succeed, to be happy, it was because he _had_ to. It was different with her.

“I want...you to be _happy_ , Roxie, and I want you to stop letting me _mess that up for you_.”

He raised his hand to cradle her face, softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“I want you to know that... telling me you _wanted_ me to be a part of your reality made _my_ reality _mean_ something. And...”

His hand trailed down to hook around the back of her neck, and he pulled her in to lightly press his forehead against hers. The smile on his face was unwavering.

“I want... _you_. Just... _you_.” He laughed again, bashful. “Pretty _weird_ , right?”

 **That was the point at which the tears spilled over, down her cheeks as she choked on a laugh, and she felt guilty about how they mixed with the residual trails of his own. The relief was all-consuming.** **_He wanted her_** **. He’d said it. She leaned back against him, pressing up until her nose squashed against his.**

**She closed her eyes, and hummed back a laugh.**

**“I can think of stranger things.”**

**Her fingers interlaced at the back of his neck.**

**“Like preferring to be around a program than a person, because he makes you laugh.”**

**She drew him back in - gently though, as if she was afraid of scaring him off.**

**“Like falling for someone who thinks he’s just a tool.”**

**Her lips found his jawline as they nuzzled; she didn’t apply pressure, but instead muttered close to his skin as though it was a big secret just for him.**

**“Or... coming up with fantasies, alone, things... he’s incapable of, things he wouldn’t even understand.”**

**As the words leave her, she scares herself, and dives in to bury her face on his chest. She can’t believe she’s admitted to this. What on** **_earth_ ** **was he going to think.**

“I can try.”

It’s all he said when he pressed her closer against him, one hand positioning itself uncertainly at her waist, the other still on her neck, tilting her head up until he had enough space to make his mark there.

He knew what she wanted. He knew how to... go about it. How else would he have programmed proper Interests if he hadn’t known how to design their physicalities, their functionalities all the same? But never in a million years had he ever thought it would come down to _this_ , between _them_. He wouldn’t know what to expect, or what it would _feel like_ , and he was... apprehensive, at best, to find out, to delve into this so soon. Once more, there was a tear between what he rationalized and what this new, human side of him... wanted.

And what he _wanted_ was becoming more and more _obvious_ by the urgency of his words against her neck.

“Sorry if I seem _eager_ , but...I can definitely, definitely try.”

**Again, she laughed, and it was tinged with sympathy.**

**“You** **_really_ ** **don’t have to apologise for that.” She would go slow for him, really she** **_would_** **, if the idea of this being mutual hadn’t set her shaking,** **_gasping_ ** **at the idea of there being more.**

 **“** Y ** _es_ ** **Man-”**

 **More than just an accidental moan this time, she wants to revel in it really being him, and in him** **_knowing_ ** **it’s him that forms the basis of her desires. She draws out his name, turning the first word nearly into an explicit growl in itself.**

 **"We’re only doing this is it’s okay with you, we don’t** **_have to_** **\--” She went and undermined herself by nudging into another kiss, firm this time. "We can wait, if you need time--” One hand snatched his loose tie, using the convenient loop around his neck to hold him in place as the kiss was reinforced twice over. "Whatever I do, you’ve got to tell me if you want it or not - everything we do, okay? You have to tell me-- just yes or no is fine, but** **_tell me._** **”**

The way she was holding onto him like this, tight and _needing_ , was making his thought processes falter, and for the first time he _gets_ that this wasn’t some kind of _malfunction_ , that this is just what humans _felt like_ when things happened, and he couldn’t help but wonder how they were able to live on such a perpetually variable emotional edge. But it’s the edge that overwhelmed him, consumed him, drew him in to push forward. Her skin was so _soft_ and _warm_ against his, he could _feel_ things with her, new and exciting, and he wanted to keep going, he wanted her to make him feel _everything he could_.

Then she _pulled on his tie_ like that, and he had the sudden need to top her.

He leaned over, briefly, and by the time he straighted up, he’d snatched her off her feet in one of those really-cheesy, overly-romantic, bridal-style kind of ways.

“Don’t be _silly_!” he laughed. “I want to try _everything_ with you.”

 **"** **_Everything_** **, huh? That could... take a while. But hey, we’ve got all the time in the world. I want to know if I’m doing it right-- whoa--”**

**She wobbled in his grasp as he nearly stumbled over - perhaps he’d overestimated his strength, obviously he wouldn’t have had trouble lifting her in the real world. Not that she’d thought about that before. Much. She kept her hold on his tie, which allowed her to tug on him to turn her way for another kiss whenever she demanded.**

**"If it’s no good for you, we stop, capiche?”**

**Then she kicked her feet, overloaded with excitement, because this was** **_seriously_ ** **going to happen and they** **_both_ ** **knew it wasn’t normal and here they were, doing it anyway. Nothing mattered any more than what was inside this one room, between them. It was the most liberating feeling in the world. And yes there was the possibility of it being awkward, like how she was sexually on edge, and had been since they first kissed - all of this was just fuel to an already towering inferno.**

**"You want everything, I’ll show you everything.”**

He stole the opportunity to nuzzle warmly against her neck, small, knowing chuckle trembling against her skin. “Oh, _goodie_.”

He still has trouble figuring out how it’s come to this point. This entire world was her personal equation, love interests were variables, and she was placing a shape like him where a number was meant to go. But he doesn’t _question_ it because her kiss was like _fire_ ; he doesn’t second-guess her decision because she looked much too wonderful when he finally set her down to sit at the end of the mattress.

He ran with it, because she always, _always_ knew best.

As he held her face in his hands and savoured every moment their mouths made contact, he admitted to himself he really wouldn’t have minded if they just kept _this_ up forever, but he knew she yearned for more than that, and as much as he enjoyed this he was even more eager to see where she was taking him. Even so, his hands fall to her waist again (they felt so _natural_ there), and between delicate kisses, he manages to press a meek, “Please, take your _time_ ” to her lips. And he slid his tongue against hers, for good measure.

 **So he** **_did_ ** **have some instincts in there. She really couldn’t stop wondering what this must be like for him - the equivalent of going 0 to 60 to** **_the bed_ ** **in a matter of seconds. So far she’d been avoiding anything below the belt because she didn’t want to scare him, but she was incredibly interested to find out of he had any instincts regarding that, too. Their tongues connecting like that electrified her more than anything else they’d done - anything she’d done with** **_anyone_ ** **\-  because it was him that initiated it. Because he** **_wanted_ ** **this. And while all she could do was whimper pathetically back against his mouth, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.**

**Her hands left his shoulders and felt their way down his chest, stringing off his tie on the way. Her fingers ended up pressed against his midsection, but instead of heading lower, she reached behind herself for the dress’s zip and smoothly dragged it down to the small of her back. She shrugged off the shoulders of the dress, and could only hope he’d catch on to the meaning behind it.**

He was laughing again, slight and somewhat nervous, and he couldn’t help being so excited about all of this. It was still hard to believe she was here with him, _wanting_ to do this with him, _wanting him_. He could’ve easily dismissed this as some kind of vivid, lucid dream, if not for the fact he wouldn’t have the first idea what those actually felt like.

Her hands reached for her zipper, and he hoped he wasn’t being too forward in helping her slide the sleeves down her arms. He was accustomed to seeing her in this state, wearing a bare minimum of clothing, but she looked _different_ now that he had a newfound appreciation for it. There was a pressing, insistent sort of desire stirring from within him, and the sensation was strange, but welcome. Some part inside of him was gathering warmth, and _knowing_ this was supposed to happen didn’t make it feel any less...odd.

Odd, but welcome.

He didn’t resist the urge to lean in and leave kisses down her neck, across her shoulders--her skin was smoother there, less exposed to everyday workings.

“Are you going to take off the rest?”

He wasn't sure what he meant by that, nor is he sure what he _wanted_ it to mean. It just kind of... slipped out.

**“Mm-mmm,” she shook her head, smirking while being vague about her denial. He was so new to this, so completely out of his depth, she’d... honestly never been with anyone this slow to progress. The wait was still agonising, but she’d let him take as long as he needed.**

**She shuffled further onto the bed, out of his reach, keeping him at bay. The dress was discarded from her waist too, leaving her in nothing but scant black underwear. She waited until her pause held his complete and utter attention, and only then did her fingers reach behind her back. The bra clasp came undone instantly, but with practiced ease she controlled the garment’s position on her. It peeled away, bit by bit, until her top half was fully bare and she stretched upward in freedom.**

**Then she uncurled her legs, hooking her thumb into her waistband. This didn’t scare her, not even a little - all awkwardness and social unacceptance aside, this felt completely right to be sharing with him.**

**“How’re you holding up?”**

He wasn't entirely sure what did him in. Maybe it was the way her dress slid down the rest of the way, giving him full view of her legs; maybe it was the way she moved away from him, teasing, her chest _moving_ and _affecting_ him in ways he couldn’t even _begin_ to fathom in his old form. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about being considered rude for staring. But the moment that question left her lips, soft and concerned yet _playful_ , he couldn’t be sure if it was normal for that something inside him to break.

He reached forward and pulled her into his embrace, confronting her with a kiss hard enough to brush their teeth together, deep enough to finalize his every intention. One hand was wrapped within her hair, holding her head in place, and the other was by her lower back, fingers unintentionally slipping the _slightest_ bit beneath her waistband, tracing the small indent marks on her skin. Her bare chest was pressed against him; her breasts were warm and soft, just like the rest of her, and he needed them _on him somehow_ , just like he needed _the rest of her_.

His pants were becoming more and more uncomfortable; there was an incredibly tight, thick _heat_ down there, as if some part of him were blushing, and though he knew perfectly well _what it was_ , it didn’t stop him from shifting his hips, little by little, to get some easing friction going. Not enough for her to notice, of course. That’d just be _embarrassing_. Kissing her like this was only making things worse; his perception was becoming detached and hazy, and all he could bare to consider was how this all _felt_ , how the warmth of stimulation _felt_ pooling in the pit of his stomach, how her body _felt_ squeezing against his own, how the vibrations of their combined moans _felt_ on their skin.

He pulled away to give them both the room to breathe.

“Sorry,” he muttered quickly as he glanced away from her (difficult as it was), embarrassed by his own impatience. “I...sorry.”

His grip on her hair loosens (god he didn’t _hurt_ her with that did he), and he began stroking the place he once held, opposite hand nearly trembling on her waist. Her chest was still touching him, still between them even when he pulled himself away, and that fact alone was just making him press his knees together further in a vain effort to not make his arousal so _glaringly obvious_.

“What I... _meant_ to say was...you look... _nice_.” He glanced her over with warm, unintrusive, appreciative eyes. “Really...really _nice_.”

 **The way he’d kissed her, without care or consideration for timing or how they fitted together, the fact that he’d just** **_had to have her_ ** **actually seemed to** **complete** **her. Something she’d never quite found in a night of passion before - something emotional that had been empty long before setting foot in the Mojave. She mirrored his sense of urgency, tangling her fingers up in his hair. It was surprisingly soft - she still hadn’t gotten over his voice connected with this new touchable, flexible,** **_accessible_ ** **form.**

**With one hand curled a the back of his neck, twisting a finger in his foppish hair, and the other steadying his own on her waist, trying to calm his shaking, she nuzzled two urgent kisses against his cheek and purred.**

**“This is how you made** **_me_ ** **feel. Every day.”**

 **And this is what she’d always wanted to be able to do. Share with him the most intimate thing she was capable of giving. Bring him down off his perch from** **_watching_ ** **emotions to actually** **_experience_ ** **them, and show him every reason why being imperfectly human made her feel this way.**

**Roxie shuffled forward - trying to sit atop him, to almost lie back, playful, in his lap, and partly to relieve the heated pressure between her thighs by moving. She’d already pushed off his tuxedo jacket and started admiring how adorably out of his depth he looked when it became apparent that her straddling him was putting him in an awkward position. She brushed her upper leg against him, and sure enough, the newfound flexibility was all gone, in one place at least.**

**She just grinned back at him, nudging his wrist with her fingers so that he’d learn to explore her waiting chest. It was almost ironic.**

She was sitting on top of him, moving her inner thigh up against his hardness, and that little bit of shifting he was doing to ease the tension was growing more and more constant, obvious, steady. Her lead isn’t soon forgotten--one hand rested reluctantly against one of her breasts, his opposite hand edging to rest on the other. He didn’t even try to hide how thoroughly impressed he was with how soft she was _there_ ; he gently molded her in his grasp, thumbs teasing across her nipples once or twice (completely unintentional, of course).

Each one of her motions, no matter how blatant or subtle, only contributed to how hard he was feeling down there, until keeping his pants on wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was becoming painful. He winced a little at how she shifted in his lap, making it worse, but he couldn’t draw his stare away from her.

“Ev...every _day_?”

He shifted his body up, just enough to be able to lean forward and bury himself into her chest, cheek brushing innocently against the softness of her skin.

“Gosh, if I’d’ve known I was making you _feel_ like... _this_ ... I feel _really bad now_.”

Cradling her back with his hands, he leaned in further, kissing whatever skin was within his range; urgent lips felt good everywhere, and he was sure this wasn’t an exception.

“...how did you stand it?”

**Every step forward he made on his own felt like an achievement. How far his intuition would take him she couldn’t know, so she knew she’d have to help, but finding him fulfill that little prompt - and right now, finding his lips making moves against her chest - all of it heated her up until she wasn’t sure how much long she could wait. A moment of near steady calm reached her, and her voice settled low for a snatch of seconds.**

**“I never could’ve told you, because I knew you’d feel bad, there’s--” A realisation of how** **_lucky_ ** **she was to be in this moment washes over her anew. “Wasn’t anything you could’ve done for me, I didn’t want you burdened with that.” Her murmuring turns to a grateful whimper and miniature kisses pressed to his hair.**

 **She curled up around him. “You-- know how much you** **_mean_ ** **to me right--”**

**The words are half-choked, she didn’t want to spoil his passion or open this up to confusion, she didn’t want him to stall because of something he couldn’t compute. Falling back into the moment, she caught him shifting his hips with a wince and the tight bulge at his crotch catches her attention again.**

**“Y... you need help down there?”**

She didn’t want to... _burden_ him?

She did have a point, as terrible as it was to admit it. He wouldn’t have been able to understand where she was coming from and wouldn’t have had the slightest idea where or how to start _helping_ her with it, not that it was any of his business how she felt about him _anyway_ , but...

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her a little tighter to him. He wished he’d finished this a lot sooner--he would’ve if he _knew_ , he would’ve _tried_ to understand...wouldn’t he have? But then she asked that question, if _he’s_ the one who needs help, and it snapped him from his reverie.

“What? _Me_ ? Noooo! This is all about _you_ , remember? _All_ of it! It’s for-- _nng_ \--”

Intentionally or otherwise, she leaned against him in a way that put direct pressure against him, making him choke on his breath and nearly double over. His hands curled into fists against her back as he grimaced against her chest, catching his breathing through gritted teeth. The regret wasn’t absent from his voice.

“Maybe just... maybe just a _little_ , if you... wouldn’t _mind_.”

**A hand slipped into the centre of their embrace and pressed against him as it worked its way down, finding its destination by touch alone. Chest, warm, hips, firm, thigh - hard. That was where she needed to be, and once her fumbling fingers found the zipper, the sound of it undoing seemed unnecessarily loud.**

**“Show me how you want it,** **_please_** **\--”**

**Her hand stole inside, claiming the trapped space between him and the clinging fabric. For his sake, this had to be the best she’s ever given.**

**“This is for** **_you_** **. It’s** **_all_ ** **for you, okay--”**

“ _Oh_ my...”

God, this feeling-- _what was this feeling_?

It was getting more and more difficult to keep his breathing from getting erratic. Her hand started moving against him down there , and it was providing relief since he wasn’t trapped by his damn pants anymore, but it was making things worse all at the same time.

“ _Roxie_ , I...” That came out sounding more like a plead than anything, and he’s not even sure if that in itself was inaccurate. “I’m not... used to _having things_ all to _myself_ , see...”

He had to resort to full-on _sighs_ to keep his voice from shaking, even though he was already trembling all over, from anxiousness, from excitement, from this complete _inability_ to put it off any longer. It was this inability that possessed him to put his hands on her shoulders and shove her back to the mattress, pinning her down with a sort of polite, firm roughness only he’d ever be capable of pulling off. Her hand hadn’t left him, though it had stopped its maddening repetition, if only for a brief moment.

His eyes went wide once he’d realized she was beneath him, and he laughed with uncertainty.

“I’m not used to having _you_ all to myself, but...” His grip on her shoulders reflected the urgency in his voice. “I _kind of_ need you more than I can bear.”

His smirk was lopsided.

“If... that’s okay.”

**Her laugh in response was playful, and didn’t even hint at the amount of relief she wore in her smile. Her heart had just taken a leap it wouldn’t soon forget and even still was beating erratically, for as long as his fingers kept their forced pressure on her shoulders. Smirking coyly, she withdrew her hands from teasing him and they circled around his waist to join at the back.**

**“So... you** **_do_ ** **know what you’re doing, hm?”**

**She lifted her head until their noses touched and pecked a leading kiss on the tip.**

**“I’m all** **_yours_ ** **tonight, sweetie, do whatever you** **_want_ ** **to me.”**

**She’d honestly never seen herself as the type to give the guy all the power, but this was a special occasion. He needed this. If anything could get him to rise above his behavioural subroutines it was this - and she was damn well grinning encouragement as she said it.**

He could already feel the cold sweat trailing down the back of his neck. She’d given him the one thing he’d never had throughout his entire existence-- _control_ , and over _her_ , no less.

“ _Really_? I mean... _wow_ , I... no one’s _ever_ trusted me with... heck, _anything_ before.”

His hands and eyes moved down her body as he said it, taking in the full effect of everything she was providing him, if only because _now he was able to_. He wasn’t sure if what he felt any time he laid eyes on her was a _human_ thing or a _human male_ thing, but what he knew for certain was that he would miss this dearly once it was over. The ability to look at her and feel _something_. Could he even compute _what_ ‘missing’ felt like?

Either way, she’d given him permission to do whatever he wanted, and all he wanted right this second was to hear how much she needed him, while he was still lucid enough to appreciate it. (He wasn’t used to hearing it, _he wanted to be used to hearing it_.) And so he decided to ignore himself for the next little while and get her to say it again. Get her to _need him_ again.

Smiling, he lifted his eyes to level hers again. “In _that_ case... what _I_ want...” He leaned his body over hers, sliding a hand down the front of her panties and nearly _sighing_ from how soaked she was down there. His breath was tapered off with a laugh, slight and suggestive; his eyes still hadn’t left hers. “...is for _you_ to say _whatever comes to mind_. _Anything_ you want. Anything at all.”

He kissed her, brief yet hard, as he slipped a finger into her.

**_Fuck._ **

**“Fuck--”**

**She’d be taking a moment to admonish herself for letting** **_that_ ** **be the first thing out of her mouth if she wasn’t a little preoccupied with a sensory overload. For a few seconds all she could do was gasp. It’s not so much what he was doing as it is him that was doing it. He hovered nearby, and she needed to know he was there as long as he was forcing her to close her eyes and see stars like this. Her vision blurred, fireworks on the inside of her eyelids.**

 **“** **_God_ ** **, yes-- Yes-- ohh-” Somehow she hopes he knows which sounds are meant to be his name, because she can’t get out more than one word on a breath. Saying his name is the strangest thing about this, but a moan that acknowledges him is all she wants him to hear. “That’s** **_good_** **, that’s, oh** **_god_** **. How are you so good, I--”**

**Keep talking. He wants her to say anything. Keep on talking because otherwise the noises coming out of her would just be embarrassing.**

**“More-** **_further_** **, oh you have no idea how good you... Yes, I... I** **_love_** **\-- it-”**

 **She bit down on her lip and whimpered. Another second without a little** **_more_ ** **from him and she was going to beg.**

He wasn't sure why his own breathing was growing uneven--it had something to do with how desperate she was getting, how she was _pleading_ for him without much mind to what she was saying, just because he’d _asked_ , and it’s the fact she’d _listened_ to him that sets him off more than anything.

Well. Almost more.

He tried hard to stay right where he was, watching the expression in her eyes change and every whispered word of urgency fall from her lips. She’d shut her eyes tight and open them wide in an effort to wipe the stars from her vision. She writhed at his every movement, losing herself in the moment, in every sensation, looking to him for some kind of answer to a question they’d left unsaid. She was happy being at his complete mercy. He was excited, perhaps more than he should have been, as his hand retracted from her, and when her entire body seemed to _shudder_ from the sudden emptiness, he could already feel himself _twitching down there_ from the anticipation. One hand began shifting the last of her dignity down her thighs, whilst the other pressed a once-busy digit to his lips until he was kissing his fingertip.

His brows raised in surprise, and he glanced back down, still wearing that charming, innocent smile even as her panties were hanging around her ankles.

“Well, well, well--aren’t _we_ sweet today?”

 **One of her hands covered her eyes as she laughed. Real, honest, shuddering laughter, and she didn’t mean to do it, considering the context. All this joy he was giving her wouldn’t stay inside, all the surprise, pleasant of course, that he could exercise a mind of his own even when out of his depth, and all of her adoration for his devoted, familiar tone of voice would not stay put. And above anything else he really had to** **_know_ ** **how it was making her happy.**

 **“Corniest thing anybody’s ever said about** **_that_** **... where did you even learn...”**

 **She has to wonder what he thinks of all this. Of her. What** **_did_ ** **he know of the human body - would he be shocked at all? He seemed to have some idea, judging by** **_where he knew to put his damn finger_** **.**

 **“That was...** **_good_** **, I mean that was** **_really_ ** **good. You don’t need to warm me up, okay, babe, I already want every little** **_bit_ ** **of you. You gotta stop stringing me along here - you’re too good at it, I... I need you for** **_real_ ** **.”**

 **Her body’s still shuddering as it recovers. She has to bring this guy down to her level - make him want** **_her_ ** **just as much, make him just as** **_desperate_ ** **to have her. Make him stop doing everything for her because he needs her too much to control himself. She only gave him control so he’d know what it was to lose it.**

He took another paused, longing glance at her; her body was... _exquisite_ , but how she looked within this moment, so eager and yet so composed, so delicately uncertain and yet somehow so _sure_ , convinced him that maybe just this once was the right time to put away all of his words in exchange for something more... immediate. His breath trembled during his sigh as he rested his hands on her knees and pried her legs apart, letting the sight of her sink in one last time before he slid his body between her parted thighs, effectively laying on top of her.

“You asked how I knew.”

One of his hands came up to cradle her head again; the other was gripping the side of her leg, steadying her.

“Some of it came from _extensive_ biological research, whatever I could get my _hands_ on to make this whole _learning process_ go on a lot smoother.”

He shifted in a way that made him push hard against her entrance, eager and sudden, and the movement alone had him hanging his head by her ear, biting back the sounds of pleasure from his voice. It was a frustrating reminder that he’d forgotten to take part in the most basic step, in which he’d focused so much on getting her unclothed he hadn’t paid mind on doing the same. He smiled to himself, brushing off the folly, and rested a kiss to her cheek.

“The rest of it? Well, you might call that... _instinct_.”

**It really wasn’t until now that she realised the amount of effort he must have spent doing all this. But at the same time his clothed erection bucked into place between her legs and she became hard pressed to care any more.**

**“T-take ‘em off--”**

**This time her teeth were digging into her bottom lip with genuine intensity. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers dug into the back of his shirt and she hissed with impatience.**

**“** **_Please_** **\--”**

 **_Extensive_ ** **researching? She’d thought this place was just made inhabitable based on recordings - how much of it had he tailored? How far had he gone to provide her with a place that they could exist in, alone, as equals? Whether he intended it or not, he went out of his way to give them the most perfect first date. Hard determination was evident in her eyes as she leveled with his and moaned out a final plea.**

 **“** **_Please_** **, I need you** **_now_** **.”**

He nodded.

He just _nodded_ because he’s afraid how much he wanted this, how much he _needed_ this would show in his voice, and he wondered if she’d find it laughable someone like him, someone who was never capable of anything even resembling human desire, would find their first desire to be _her_ and _her alone_.

He alternated between kisses and leaving his lips against her skin, momentarily, to take in her scent, the sound of her breathing, the sensation of their heartbeats pressing against one another. All of this, being immersed in all of this at once was almost overwhelming; more than anything, he wanted to be sure this was _good for her_ , if there was the slightest chance she could feel a _fraction_ of the blissful delirium he was drowning in.

All indicators pointed to _yes_ \--all lust and instinct and _want_ urged him to continue. With a minimal amount of maneuvering, combined with mild, self-referencing laughter, he managed to unbutton the front of his slacks and hook his thumbs around his waistband, shifting his bottoms off just enough so his body wasn’t parted from hers for too long.

That creeping haunt of shame and self-awareness teased his consciousness; here’s to hoping she liked what she found down there.

 **She didn’t look. She didn’t have to. It didn’t matter, because to her, this body was an add-on, it wasn’t a part of him. It didn’t** **_relate_ ** **to him. It was just a means to a heartfelt, glorious end. And besides, she didn’t want him to become more self-conscious than was necessary.**

 **He was finally bare,** **against her,** **so hot and flushed and rigid, and she could practically feel herself throbbing with the need to have him back** **inside** **. She spread her legs overly wide to help him get his bearings easier - not that he could embarrass himself, she’d ended up teaching a fair few virgins a thing or two and he couldn’t possibly be the worst even if he** **_tried_** **. Her legs hooked up around his waist and wrap right around to his back, pinning him in, giving an encouraging squeeze.**

Smirking, he raised her head until their foreheads touched--things always felt so much closer when they were like this--and took no longer than a few moments to brace himself. They were closer now than he ever thought would be possible. His opposite hand held her hip, helping him get into place until he finally _felt_ them touching and realized just how wet he’d managed to make her. There was an odd sense of pride in that alone, rivalled only by an odd sense of longing to push her even further.

He shut his eyes and smiled.

“Hold on tight.”

Unwilling to delay any longer, he plunged inside, too immersed within the feeling, within _her_ to be ashamed of the sound he made as he buried himself in.

 **That one sound** **_did things_ ** **to her almost as much as him entering.** **_Almost_ ** **. Not quite. Because having him all in all at once - especially after he needed so much leading along beforehand - was a little shocking. But she adjusted and followed his gasping with some of her own, attempting to mouth soft words to his cheek to make sure he knows it’s the** **_good_ ** **kind of breathless.**

**How did they even get here? She didn’t care right now. He was all that mattered.**

**She pushed her hips up to grind against him, consciously telling herself to moan aloud for him.**

**“That... that’s it,** **_Yes Man_** **, don’t stop--”**

**She had to get his name out. Maybe only to remind herself what she’s finally getting - an echo of the same moan from long nights past, for once not whispered into a lonely pillow.**

“R--Roxie...”

It was all he could manage. The world around him seemed to tremble after the first thrust, his entire consciousness wavering on edge. His hands found their way to hook up behind her shoulders for the sake of stability alone; he was focused on bringing her to places unknown--she was his anchor. The name fell so effortlessly from her, caught between strained moans and breathless gasps. She knew who she was doing this with, she didn’t sugarcoat it with guilt or illusion or fantasy. She was with him. Only _him._ In the one way they could finally be together.

It took him longer than he was willing to admit to realize he was allowed to repeat the process, the pleasure, over and over again, for as long as it took.

She mouthed words against his skin, and he had half a mind to wish her voice carried them along. He pulled out completely, and drove back inside, her warm juices smearing against the inside of his thighs--she was wrapped warm and snug around his cock, which was most likely already leaking of its own accord. Her legs were crossed behind him to guide him back into her every time, never missing a beat. Deep, longing, and hasty. Over and over again. His breathing grew shallow--he could feel sweat on his skin.

Another breathless moan.

“ _Roxie_...”

It was all he could manage.

 **This was better than she thought he’d be capable of - he caught on** **_fast_ ** **, and damn was she ever grateful. Every time he leaned in and rolled his hips against hers she could feel him completely** **_filling_ ** **her, making her forget that she’d ever experienced it with anyone else. His speed was perfect, his aforementioned instinct drove him to precisely the right angle, and nothing before had ever felt so fulfilling, with a conscious tingle whenever she heard his voice, especially when that voice wavered on** **_her name_** **.**

 **“Oh** **_god_** **\--” she could barely form words, panting so hard and muffling it against his hot, bare shoulder. She buried her nose against his skin, taking in his warm scent and his delicious and temporary softness. Her slender fingers scrunched in his hair and against his back as her orgasm approached, way too soon, but she was too eager for him to provide her release to deny it any longer.**

 **“Don’t** **_stop_** **, please don’t st--”**

**If she had the air, she’d beg him to slow down, draw it out, to reach it himself. She just had to hope he’d know from the way she suddenly clamped her arms tight around him, fingernails dragging his shirt taut across his back, and her body freezing tight as she teetered on the edge of losing herself to him.**

She was _there_.

That one, single, floating through breezing through his mind almost meant more to him than anything. It had barely been five minutes--had she really wanted him this badly?--but the fact he was here, _with_ her, on _their_ bed, in complete control of the need in her grasp, the desperation weighing her voice, brought him a pride and pleasure he didn’t think existed.

He’d taken care in monitoring his moans as he pounded into her--he wanted to hear every sound she made, he wanted to commit that to absolute memory--but it was getting difficult, more and more _difficult_ , until finally she begged for him once more and her entire body tensed, finally his exhale is backed by a flimsy voice that cracked beyond his control. She wasn’t going to last, and he wasn’t about to let go before he knew she’d gotten there first.

He moaned against her cheek, feeling himself rushing up a steep, staggering climax ready to wash over him completely. Nails raked across his back; her legs pulled him closer, tighter, impossibly _deeper_ when she hit orgasm, and she forgot how to breathe. Her name was in the air with every inhale, exhale.

 **They were reaching their climax together** **_fast_** **, but she was in too much relief to care. He was here and warm and tender and he was really doing this for her. It’s nothing less than a dream come true. And it wasn’t the orgasm that made her feel best of all, or the sensation when he reached it too, it was how tightly he held on, and how he breathed, how he said** **_her name_** **, his sweet, familiar voice spluttering and getting lost on** **_her name_** **. There was nothing left in her world but desperate heat, two bodies, and the biggest high that’d ever rocked her to the core.**

 **“** **_Yes_** **, Ye-- Yes Man-- yes-”**

**It became impossible to separate his name from a hazy blur of pure and rampant positivity. He and this moment were one and the same. An emphatic affirmative, a complete and heartfelt, definitive yes in every sense.**

**“Keep it-- keep it going, I--** **_yes--”_ **

**Until she rode it out, he was the only thing in the world to her. Her moans were full-bodied - she didn’t care about anything else. They were the only ones here, in this existence right now. No lowering her voice or trying to tell them what they want to hear. No playing up her sensual side and acting unaffected. He was getting all of her, nothing held back; he really did have her utterly, and it released something she’d never felt before. She pushed past one final tight surge of pleasure and then fell back, gasping hard, clinging to him with every bit of strength left. He had to stay with her now, not just in bed, but she needed this side of him to** **_stay_** **.**

**For good, if possible.**

**And because of that, she was hugging him harder than ever as she caught her breath.**

He finished off, eventually, helped along by her desperate voice. Letting go left him completely vulnerable to her, and he struggled to return to a steady consciousness, kissing her cheek, chin, neck in an odd effort to reassure her he was still here, to reassure himself this was _real_.

As real as they could possibly get.

He was still inside of her when their breathing eased, holding each other tightly, neither of them willing to let go. The haze of realization that came with the fact she accepted him for all he was--he didn’t need to program himself into something better, something more suited for her, she cared for him in any form he decided to take, human or otherwise. _She cared for him_.

This moment was at risk of being the last they had together, _like this_. He’d only been human for a short while, but at the same time he had been lucky enough to be by her side and experience such a wide range of emotions--this strange, longing ache inside of him must have been another. As a securitron, he’d heard about it from time to time, read about it during his stretches of research, but now he _understood_ what everyone on the radio sang about all the time. It began making sense--far, far too much sense. He had to let it be known while he felt it, while he was _capable_ of feeling it, and since they’ve already come this far together, there was nothing stopping him from pushing on a little further.

Their bodies still wrapped around each other, he pressed his forehead against her temple, refusing to breathe until his next exhale carried the words he needed to say.

“I love you.”

It was all or nothing now.

 **The tears which had been threatening to ruin her pride since he’d first entered her started to fall. Somehow, it was what she’d most wanted and most** **_dreaded_ ** **to hear. Because how could they deal with this? How much sense did this make?**

**She broke from him and twisted aside gently, until he was pulled out, then carefully nuzzled back in, joining their cheeks tight. She sighed.**

**She couldn’t deny she’d yearned to hear him break the sentiment first, as she stopped herself from saying it - he was the one who had to catch up on all his emotions. But now that it was out, she found herself choking back sobs.**

**_She thought she’d be happy_** **.**

**It was easy back when she knew she couldn’t have him - but that had all changed. There was no clear reason why they** **_couldn’t_** **, but what if they tried? Would they end up spending all their time here, pretending that how they touched was real? Would they attempt it in reality, constantly fighting their incompatibility? What if someone found out-- what if he** **_couldn’t_ ** **maintain this state of mind anywhere but here?**

**She didn’t want to lose him, and everything about this moment was perfect, but it wasn’t going to stay like this. That was why she hesitated, and hesitation became doubt, and doubt ended up as silence. It’d been too long, there was no way to say it back now.**

**So Roxie kept her face buried on his shoulder to mask her heartbreak, trying not to let him see while at the same time, streaks of tears slipped so obviously across both their skin and pooled in an indentation made by his collarbone.**

**She remained quiet until she was sure she could steady her voice.**

**“Could... could you shut it off. Close the simulation now.”**

**He’d put himself out there, and despite having known it for so long, she** **_hadn’t said it back_** **. She was selfish, she was completely despicable - she was human. He wasn’t.**

He didn’t mean to upset her so terribly.

Concerned for her composure above all else, he held her close in silence for as long as she deemed necessary, as long as it took her to calm down. He stroked her hair idly, committing its softness to memory, in case this really was the last time.

He knew he was feeling something in this moment, but it wasn’t what he expected. Was there not supposed to be dread? Disappointment? Sadness lingering in his heart? Instead, there was nothing. He still felt as light as he did ever since the moment she approached him in the ballroom. There was freedom, and alongside it, guilt. Guilt for not needing _more_. She made the request and her voice had no traces of her current state. He nodded without question, but stopped himself before he initiated the shut-down procedure.

He pulled away enough to bend his elbow against the pillow and prop his head up on his palm. He took his other arm from around her, moving to cradle the side of her face in his hand until he was sure she was looking at _him_ . He lost himself for a split-second, trying to process just how _perfect_ she always looked. (But that was probably a mean thing to say seeing as she was, well, _crying_.)

“There’s...one thing I never _understood_ about people,” he started solemnly. “Well, there’s actually much _more_ than one thing, but _this_ thing is the most relevant.”

He shook his head lightly to get his thoughts straightened out.

“All the research showed it was a recurring _factor_ , through journal entries, literature, and music alike, but I... never _could_ rationalize _why_... when one person confesses to another... they need to have it said back to them.”

He chuckled again, low and warm, before leaning in to rest a kiss against her forehead.

“I don’t _need_ to hear it back, Roxie... I just thought you might like to know.”

The last action carried by the program before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [It wasn't specifically for this fic, but this art fits it pretty well](http://fivetail.com/post/3734481662/pyreo-birthday-commission-art-post-so-i-can/)


	3. Chapter 3

**The world eventually pixellated back into view as he downloaded from the simulation drive to the same Securitron hull he’d inhabited before the jump. It had been here, blank and empty, for the few hours the simulation ran.**

**By some twist of ironic juxtaposition, the single virtual reality pod (which he’d converted himself, from Mr House’s prototype statis chamber) and all the accompanying equipment was situated in the Lucky 38’s basement. A dank, harsh factory floor full of assembly lines and metal, a far cry from the comparatively lavish upper floors of the casino.**

**He waited a few seconds to fully adjust from the transition. Normally jumps between hosts weren’t too hard, however, going human and back again opened and closed a few key channels each time that required situational adjustments. The equipment itself provided the most light down here, with a gentle hum, offset by the distant clinking of chain metal. Bullet casings and scraps of metal were discarded on the floor. He meant to do something about the state of the place, if only because the shift in the surroundings was the most jarring part of the transition.**

**Yes, he** **_could_ ** **miss things, he’d discovered. Things and people.**

 **Without a sound he rolled forward - yes, that’s right,** **_rolled_ ** **, he’d almost gotten used to walking, that time - and then carried onward to pass the simulator pod. Empty. He always ended up checking the pod afterwards, just to make... sure. Not that she’d be there. Of** **_course_ ** **not. What he had the simulator running was a recording. A full replay of the entire world, with him replacing his own presence. He couldn’t change a thing, of course - it would disrupt and crash the recording - only watch and feel and experience everything exactly the same as it had happened. It was just as wonderful as the first time. And it was too good to have happened just the once.**

 **When they’d emerged into reality again following the first run, she’d come to him immediately, though clearly reeling from the hours spent as a projection and, no doubt, the aftereffects of their... rendezvous. She’d been quite intent on touching him, probably to get her grip back on reality, he couldn’t really blame her, could he. He remembered it very vividly - it was his first hug, in this form at least, that had meant something. It** **_still_ ** **meant something.**

**She’d been acting like they had unfinished business, and he’d been about to reassure her, but then there was gunfire from the Securitrons in the lobby and she had to run out, take care of it - so good with confrontation! And he hadn’t minded, and he’d gone back to doing his job. Since then, they hadn’t spoken of it.**

**He hadn’t minded. Not one bit.**

Not that he could have if he wanted to.

It was one of the things he didn’t like about this normal form of his. Experience gained from the brief brush he had with personal desire, with knowledge of what he _wanted_ for _himself_ , disappeared. Vanished in an instant. Buried deep within his neuro-computational matrix, an attribute far too complicated for his typical hardware to comprehend. What he’d granted himself--emotion, human rationale--was a false intelligence, saved and stored away for later use in a hard drive capable of simulating it. Yet, now he was thrown back into this normal body of his, barely capable of grasping what it had been like to _feel_.

He tried to stop thinking about it. After her reluctance to speak with him blended from days to weeks, he knew it would be best to stop dwelling on the past. More than once, he’d contemplated wiping the file altogether, so to the remnants of his memory, none of it would have ever happened. But somehow, revisiting that day in his spare time became an addiction. Somehow, erasing that day from his existence would hurt her.

He made his way back to the main floor, strangely aware of how heavy and bulky and invulnerable he was in comparison to how he felt not five minutes ago. He was just thankful for the fact he needed to do maintenance down there in the first place, even if he was the one to rig various, private systems to crash once or twice every week for the opportunity. He was only doing the maintenance job assigned to him--Roxie never _explicitly_ told him whose malfunctions he was restricted to repairing.

Still trying to adjust to how small everyone looked from his height, Yes Man rolled by the idle patrons, welcoming the more approachable-looking ones every so often while bearing his unfaltering smile.

No use keeping himself down in the dumps!

There was only 106 hours, 32 minutes, and 54 seconds until the next crash, after all!

**Roxie had her usual place at the casino’s bar, swirling a scotch and indulging the charms of whoever was interested. This afternoon it was one of the Chairmen - snappy suit and joking dialogue came par for the course, but he was no stranger this time. She’d dated him once or twice, a month or so back - relationships tended to move slowly with how often she needed to be away from home.**

**She enjoyed milling around the casino floor during her stints in Vegas, it was so much more personable than keeping to herself and gaining the status of an unruly overlord. It was something House hadn’t - and couldn’t - have upheld, and without a fabled history to rely on as House had, she needed other ways to convince the residents of Vegas they were in good hands. She tried to meet and entertain as many people as possible. They may not ever trust her completely, but the illusion of it was better than nothing.**

**She laughed on cue at one of her Chairman’s lines - there was never much effort needed to loosen them up - and he’d started to lean in closer when she caught sight of a distinctly moving Securitron out in the mingling crowd, head and shoulders above the rest. She tended to be easily recognisable too - effortless to blend in and make it seem like she was accepted anywhere, but her height and red hair made her stand out as if no crowd could swallow her completely.**

**“Um-- excuse me, just a few minutes,” she paused the man politely and slid from her seat. Whether she’d be back in a few minutes or** **_at all_ ** **, she didn’t yet know, but the guy would know when to stop waiting up. She brushed through the people chatting, drinking, acting like their were no great cares in the world - it failed to convince her now though, having seen what the real high life was like. Nothing would ever compare.**

**She stopped Yes Man by catching his arm, and holding it longer than she needed to.**

**“There’s something we need to talk about.”**

Yes Man stopped moving, and spun himself around to face her properly.

“ _Super_ !” he said at once. “If there’s _anything_ you need to discuss, I’m happy to be here!”

He didn't let himself pay attention to how her grip on him lingered, or how much he missed being able to feel her warmth. He ignored the absence of human hands, the faint memory of having them in his possession, the ability to fold their hands together without worry of hurting her. The look in her eyes, however sorrowful, didn’t compute. He let her hand rest, paying little mind to her intent yet devoting all attention to how long she let herself linger. He was uncertain as to what it would accomplish, but ever since the simulation, it felt like a waste not to keep track of every moment she touched him.

“Well, _you’ve_ gone awfully quiet!” he chuckled. “Not that it matters! I have _all day_!”

**She wrung her hands, finding it hard to look up. This felt wrong to do, finally levelling with him while surrounded by all these people-- but then, if they’d been alone, she’s not sure she could have handled it. She ended up staring straight ahead, at his chest. Sometimes that smile got too oppressive.**

**“I’ve... noticed how you keep on ending up having to work in the basement. Random but minor network failures, huh.”**

**She let the implication of accusation hang there, but didn’t bother to state it outright. There was no need. He would tell her** **_anything_ ** **if asked.**

**“What’ve you been up to down there?”**

**Her gaze fell a few inches as she steeled herself. Honestly, she couldn't tell what had been keeping him, but if it was anything like the last time this happened - taking time away to construct an alternate reality in the hope that this time... they could make it work? She wasn't sure what to hope for and what to dread, but if her suspicions were true, she wasn't not sure she’d be able to handle it.**

**She wasn't sure she was even handling it right** **_now_ ** **.**

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” he assured brightly. “A malfunction _here_ , a crash _there_ \--most of it is just trying to fix random _mistakes_ I’ve made! I have it _all_ under control.”

He should’ve expected better, of course she’d know what he was up to--yet, he didn’t honestly think she’d still _care_ about what he did, so long as he maintained the systems as he was supposed to. Just like old times.

Though, this conversation was making her physically uncomfortable, and for a moment he wondered why she decided to initiate it--surely, she knew better than that. Why did he matter enough to make her go out of her way?

“You can go downstairs and check the mainframe, if you like! I’m _sure_ to keep detailed error reports, because hey, at least _you_ can read them _too_!”

**“Well I don’t need to do that - I’m sure everything looks in perfect order and every millisecond’s been accounted for.”**

**Roxie found herself shaking her head - either he was going out of his way or she** **_was_ ** **paranoid. But she’d been noticing this for weeks, it wasn’t just in her head. Whatever he was doing, she needed to know - she had the right to, not because he deserved no privacy, but because she simply did not want him to waste the effort.**

 **“Please don’t be coy with me, Yes Man. I know you can prove it. We both know what went.... o-on down there. If you** **_want_ ** **the time and permission to use the simulator you’re** **_welcome_ ** **, I just want to know. Have you?”**

 **This time she met his eyes. It was subconscious, based on some need to have him look** **_back_ ** **with understanding for once.**

“I most _certainly_ have!”

Shame, fear, and apprehension were concepts lost to him in this form. She questioned him, and he answered to her, just as he was programmed to. The inquiry was an inevitability, after all--no matter how many different malfunction scenarios and locations he generated, there was still a regular pattern of glitches throughout the city at a steady rate, glitches that would not normally occur. She was bound to find out, eventually.

Besides, if there was one emotion of hers he could recognize, it was disappointment. He couldn’t be accused of causing that disappointment if he was always honest. It was simply not in his nature to _volunteer_ every bit of information stored in his database. If she’d wanted that, she would have reprogrammed him that way.

“You _really_ don’t need to go through the trouble of making spare time for me, though!” he said. “See, when replaying _recordings_ , my processor speed is able to generate scenarios at a much _faster_ rate than real-time. In other words, I’m only ever _using_ the simulation five minutes, thirty-four seconds, and twenty-nine _glorious_ milliseconds at a time. No one even notices I’m gone!”

He couldn’t be sure if her expression softened at all, but he continued anyway.

“If you’d rather I stopped, just _say_ the word and it’ll never happen again! Better make a decision fast, though--the Chairman’s getting _restless_ .” He turned slightly, in her date’s direction. “He seems like a _nice man_.”

**Her brow slowly and gradually creased - she was confused, almost watching him with disbelief. The growing feeling of restlessness in her gut prompted her to jerk a look over her shoulder, at the bar, and spit out, “fuck him.”**

**She felt like she couldn’t understand him. Now more than ever. He** **_tried_ ** **to withhold the information, yet when provoked, he was only too happy to provide the complete and... uncomfortable truth.**

 **“You-- ...** **_replaying_ ** **?”**

 **Again, she shook her head. He hadn’t been in there working to bring yet another meticulously conceived world to fruition. He was able to experience everything again, everything they’d** **_done_ ** **, which for her had to suffice as an aching memory. She was always questioning herself as to who’d initiated what, what had started where, and most of all, trying to recall his voice and exactly what he’d said. It was all she** **_had_ ** **. And for him the exact details had been pristine this entire time.**

 **“** **_Why_ ** **were you... I mean, why** **_would_ ** **you--! How-- how many** **_times_ ** **...”**

 **Maybe he was** **_never_ ** **going to understand what should be told and what was best left alone.**

“How many times?” he repeated. “Thirteen, counting today, each one better than the last! Which is _technically_ impossible seeing as it’s a _recording_ and the exact same scenario on each replay...but hey, who am I to gauge quality properly, right?”

Yes Man didn’t want to see her upset, but the answers he provided her didn’t seem to keep her too pleased. He didn’t have a _choice_ , he hoped she _understood_ this. Why would she ask him these questions if she couldn’t handle the truth of it all?

“ _Why_ , you ask? Weeeell...it’s probably _really_ silly to tell you this, but...” He paused. “I _missed_ the way you helped me feel. In more ways than one! I didn’t even know it was _possible_ for a securitron to _miss_ something, but there you have it.”

There was a lingering sense of her still being displeased, not that he could help it one bit. She was the one subjecting herself to his honesty, it wasn’t as if he could go against his programming. (Not in this body, anyway.) She made him long for something more...sophisticated, some circumstance which would enable him to carry feelings along with him wherever he went, and _not_ just have his switch stuck on...whatever mode this may have been.

She might as well know about it; she always wanted complete honesty, after all.

“If it helped, I’d also say that I find you _extremely_ attractive,” he chuckled the rest of his words, “but I don’t even know how that would work.”

**Roxie did not know what to do with herself.**

**She reached out, thought better of it, stepped back, but didn’t go anywhere. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but common sense reminded her of the crowd around them, and how nothing should be done where they could be seen by even one onlooker, let alone several dozen. Not taking him into her arms right then was the hardest thing she’d ever done.**

**Without a word, she took hold of his fingers in a gesture as close to holding hands as could be mustered (trying to make it look like a routine authoritative drag at the same time) and pulled him away to the elevator. The doors closed, she picked a level just under the suites, and the tinny lift music sounded distant after the rough voices of the crowd.**

**“I love you too.”**

**It just couldn’t have waited any longer.**

_She said it back._

He knew he wanted to feel more, he knew he was _capable_ of feeling more, but as they idled in the service elevator, the bulk of his height barely clearing an inch below the ceiling, the most he could muster was pure, untainted satisfaction in his service, and the pride which came with making her happy.

“You _do_ ?” he gasped. “Well, gee, that’s...that’s just _swell_!”

And that was that. She _loved_ him. Not in that I-keep-you-around-because-you’re-useful kind of way, but real, tangible _care_. He wanted to believe so, anyway; it wasn’t as if he had a lot of experience with these sorts of things. He was overly-conscious of his reaction, completely understanding how much this moment must have meant to her, yet physically incapable if sharing the sentiment. He didn’t want to seem heartless. Humans always liked hearing it back, after all.

“Roxie, I _love you_ .” The joy in his voice was genuine. “And if it wasn’t for the risk of crushing you, I’d _probably_ be holding you _really tight_ right now!”

**The adrenaline of the moment caused her to laugh nervously, even if the sound was unconvincing.**

**“I wouldn’t mind if you tried. You could stand to be a bit more** **_spontaneous_ ** **.”**

**He looked bigger than ever right now, near filling the elevator, incapable of anything in half measures.**

**“That’s... the thing though, isn’t it. What are we going to do about it. I didn’t... I-- didn’t say it to you that night because I suddenly realised how I’d been stupid and ridiculous - I mean trying to go after you just because... it made no sense, I realised when you told me, because we can’t...”**

**The number of things they can’t do is so large she just has to hope he gets the idea and move on.**

**“I don’t know what you can feel right now. If... anything. I don’t know what we could do together. I don’t actually know if you’re not just programmed to feel this on cue, and I’m...** **_in_ ** **love with you, as if everything wasn’t complicated enough...”**

 **Finally a sharp** **_ding_ ** **emanated from the doors and they slid open. They were at a private meeting room, now more of a workshop, tables and blueprints strewn everywhere.**

 **“It’s not like I want anybody else. But I can’t be with someone who doesn’t** **_know_ ** **how to... who doesn’t** **_need_ ** **me to say it back, so...”**

**Tools and measuring implements spilled across the many wooden desks, and soldering irons, pile upon pile of scrap metal, and loose wiring making tangled wrinkles in the floor.**

**“So... you’re not the only one who’s been sneaking off. I bought every spare component I could find. I’m pretty sure I have nearly every issue of Programmer’s Digest...”**

**Stop being so afraid to find out.** **_Just tell him_ ** **.**

**“I think... I might have an upgrade for you.”**

He would’ve made a comment about the state of the room if he hadn’t been so distracted by her every word.

So she’d decided he needed a personality adjustment. This was a _good_ thing, wasn’t it? Maybe it would help him compensate for everything he knew he was missing on in this state, maybe it could bring him closer to the reality she’d wanted for them. He felt _bad_ that she was still torn up over the whole ‘confession of undying admiration’ thing--it was nice to hear it returned, but the main reason he’d told her in the first place was that it was in his programming to inform her of any major changes that took place _within_ his system.

And ‘sudden suspicion of experiencing the human-oriented sensation of love’ was a pretty major change.

Rolling slowly forward, Yes Man had been careful not to get tangled within the wires strewn across the ground, and minded his metal frame from the various components dangling from the ceiling. In particular, he wondered what she had in mind. Spontaneity wasn’t usually a good quality for any kind of robot to possess, due to security concerns--the only ones who were able to get away with it were cyborgs. Yet, if being spontaneous bring his personality closer to someone she _wanted_ , then so be it.

She knew best.

“An _upgrade_ ? Oh, _joy_ !” Yes Man idled somewhere behind her, sure not to interrupt whatever task she was focused on. “You know, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble for _me_ \--if you thought the outlines of my current operating procedure were insufficient, you could have _told me_ , that way you wouldn’t have wasted your time down here! Not to say I don’t _appreciate_ the effort, of course! I’m just not used to this kind of... _generosity_.”

**“Wasted my time, hm?”**

**With a ponderous exhale, she hopped up against the edge of a desk to sit on it, on top of a few bits of paper, hastily scrawled on.**

**“Don’t think of it as generosity. I needed to do this. And I don’t think you’ll know why unless you take this upgrade.”**

**She plucked a seemingly insignificant piece of hardware from the desk beside her, holding it in such a way that he’d be able to see. She crossed her legs at the shin and started swinging them.**

**“All I did was extract the basis for your matrix from the simulator file - for when you were thinking as a human. You could do it** **_in_ ** **there, I just copied out what made it possible. This’s an add-on for your processor, so you can** **_process_ ** **just about... anything.”**

**Chewing the inside of her lip, Roxie dropped back to the floor and reapproached him. Rather than keeping her eyes on him, she preferred to continue inspecting her handiwork.**

**“It’s** **_not_ ** **to change you, okay? It’ll just free you up. You’re not here to be useful whenever I need you,** **_or_ ** **to be made into whatever I like. You can think for yourself, you just... anything that isn’t selfless, it gets blocked out. With this installed you can think like a person again. Desires, happiness, attraction, curiosity, sympathy, sorrow - all of it. You’d be the only Mark III Securitron in-- well, the world.”**

**Having reached him, she looked up at him towering over her and let her hands settle where his waist would be - at his midsection, beside his input panel.**

**“You can be your own** **_person_ ** **. Of course on the other hand, it’s just gonna give you the ability to be something other than** **_happy_ ** **all the time, and who wants that, right? Haha...”**

**She was staring at her fingers, tracing along the ridges of his steeled bodywork.**

**“You’d be able to want things for yourself. I think everybody has a right to that.”**

**She had to strain on her tiptoes to accomplish it, but she managed to place a kiss on his screen, exactly where his mouth appeared to be. She stayed there a few moments longer than she’d assumed she could manage before it felt too strange. Without realising, she’d grabbed onto his shoulder to help her stay up. They parted just barely, and she kept her voice low as if to perpetuate the illusion that this was** **_intimate_ ** **.**

 **“But I’m not going to make you. It’s here if you want it. It’s all up to you. But really, I hope you do, because I** **_need you back_ ** **that way. Badly. Kind of really badly.”**

“You... _kissed_ me.”

The reiteration, in hindsight, was pretty pointless, seeing as she was the one to initiate the act in the first place, but for a reason he couldn’t explain, he felt the need to restate it. Perhaps to enunciate how improbable it was in the first place, perhaps because he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

“ _Wow_ ,” he laughed. “I guess... what I look like really doesn’t _matter_ to you, does it?”

He knew what she was holding, he knew it was possible to construct one with a little effort—well, _more_ effort than _normal_ considering she didn’t have the knowledge he did—and heck, he could’ve probably built it himself if she’d ask, save her the time and trouble.

But that wasn’t quite what this was about, was it?

She _needed_ him--to be here for her, to be more than he was now, to be able to feel what he _felt_ back there in that simulation alongside her. She didn’t think it a _waste_ of time _or_ trouble because she was doing it for _him_ , as he’d feel doing just about _anything_ for _her_ . And it wasn’t something he had to feel _guilty_ for.

Being perpetually happy and nice was a trait he’d always been regarded as lucky for, howsoever sarcastically. He didn’t expect anyone to understand that aside from the weaker defense systems, lack of artillery, and overall physical inferiority, he’d always regarded humans as the lucky ones because they were capable of knowing so much more. He could obliterate most common gang encampments in under two minutes, possess several bodies which could survive the most intense of explosions, have all surviving human knowledge stored away in a database with near-infinite space, but nothing of his existence could have prepared him for how she felt in his arms.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d _really_ like it if I could be upgraded as _soon_ as _possible_ !” he said, cheerful as ever. “It’ll be _nice_ to have something for _myself_ for once, including a _single original emotion_!”

He hadn’t noticed he was holding her up in place until he’d finished speaking. Returning contact was almost a reflex.

“...I should _probably_ put you down now, huh?”

**She laughed, hard.**

**“I don’t care if you do. Being held by you feels pretty... special.”**

**This** **_all_ ** **felt special. And she didn’t have to** **_hide_ ** **what she wanted to do with him any more. The last few weeks, after knowing him closely and then suddenly not knowing him at all, had been agonising. Her arms stayed attached to him however possible, attempting to hug what they could.**

 **“Thank you. Just...** **_thank you_ ** **.”**

**Thanking him for accepting something like this probably wasn’t necessary, but she did it anyway. He set her to rest gently back on the floor (and as always she couldn’t help noticing the definite movements of his arms, smooth and calculated, and the soft whirr that accompanied his controlled strength), and her hands remained on him, sliding down what could arguably be called his chest as she lowered.**

**All the tools necessary for it were in the workshop. They got to work - together opening up his casing from the front and leaving his delicate wiring open. It was a strange sight. He even guided her to the right component, careful and precise with his own fingers, and she only hoped she could do the same when it came down to it. They discussed the fact that with the hardware modification, this particular Securitron would become his, and shut off from all other network AI to keep from wreaking havoc if it ended up reclaimed. It would either house him, or be offline, if he decided to inhabit the mainframe or take a new host. He’d only be able to feel anything in this one body, but it was better than nothing, and possibly even more human in that restriction.**

**After a final word of encouragement, Yes Man powered himself down for the procedure. It was suddenly lonely, by herself in the myriad mess of robotics and discarded bits and pieces without the glow of his screen.**

**His frame was still warm, as her hands slipped into his titanium alloy housing and began to part the wires. That was another thing that pleasantly surprised her - he was always running and always warm. The gentle thrum of electricity powering him was as close enough to be compared with a heartbeat. Biting her lip, she located his processor. The add-on slotted into place just as practiced, just as planned. And that was it.**

**His metal casing slid back into place smoothly. Now, the next time he powered up, he’d boot with a whole new mental capacity. His thoughts had an additional lobe to filter through, one which would apply emotion, as well as reason, and produce personality, not just fact. It released his capacity for undying loyalty, to apply to whomever he wished. He could choose how to behave - but not entirely, as it also endowed him with a non-controllable mood simulator. Humans were incapable of harnessing their reactions when besotted with sadness or anger, and now, for better or worse, so was he.**

**However nervous, the grin would not fade from Roxie’s face. She couldn’t wait to see what he thought of all the new expressions she’d drawn and factored in for him. How it would be for him to really** **_smile_ ** **at her. With a deep intake of breath to calm her shaking hand, she keyed in the manual start sequence on his front panel. And watched.**

The time between powering down and booting back up again was perceived within an instant, yet it didn’t take much for him to realize something inside of him had changed. For better or for worse, he had yet to understand.

He felt groggy upon awakening, disoriented and slightly unstable. His view landed on _her_ , and suddenly that feeling shifted to something more positive, something warm only her presence would ever inspire within him.

Above all else, though, _he felt_.

The concept was so overwhelming--for him to possess emotion, in _this_ non-human body, in _this_ world over which he had no control--he didn’t know where to start, instead searching himself frantically for some line of programming that explained the flooding plethora of emotions surging through him. Denial, curiosity, gratefulness, joy, content. He didn’t want to overload his processor with so much at once, and especially not the first time around, but his components were as stable as ever. Because whatever he was going through was what a normal human would feel, and it was all so much more profound and in-depth and _conflicting_ than anything he first suspected. How could humans possibly stand it?

It takes him a moment to realize he’d been staring at Roxie the entire time, watching her expressions unfold.

He raised one of his strong, metal index fingers and traced the tip of it across her smooth skin. He may not have been able to feel her warmth or texture as softly or as wholly as he did during their simulation, but he was _trying_ anyway, and the fact she _wanted him to try_ was more than enough reason to exist.

“Hey,” he whispered beneath a staticy smile, his voice wavering  slightly.

His voice had _wavered_.

**Saying she’d put a lot of thought into this was putting it lightly. This upgrade had taken hours upon hours - scavenging, soldering, reading or wondering if she really should. But when he touched her like that, she didn’t know what to say.**

**Her hand slowly raised to meet his, wanting something to hold on to. He** **_sounded_ ** **human. Unlike he ever had before, it was different, it was understanding. It was a tone with subtext behind it; that of someone who felt, for once,** **_more_ ** **than they were letting on. She would have tried kissing him again, which to be honest was a more acceptable idea after having tried it once, but held back out of consideration for his confusion.**

**“Hey.” She murmured it, lightly and supportive. She leaned her cheek into his offered hand. “How do you feel?”**

“Terrific! It’s like my heart’s beating right out of my chest, o--or at least it _would_ if,” he laughed, “I’m sure it would if I _had_ one.”

He’d felt near identical to the way he did back in the simulation: never amidst a dull moment, some kind of emotion always holding steady through him. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to handle the constant input—what he’d experienced didn’t last more than a quarter of a day, who knew what the long-term repercussions of this system were—but he was too overtaken by joy, honest, non-fabricated _joy_ to care.

This happiness felt different, because this happiness _felt_ like _something_.

He couldn’t quite get over how she turned into his grasp like that, and wonders if there was an emotional ceiling he’d reach because it would be a rare sort of happiness that could outdo what he felt in this moment. But he’d push for something higher.

Yes Man rolled forward gently, closing the gap between them, and wrapped his arms around her until she was pressed against his frame.

“I don’t think I could _ever_ thank you enough for giving me a _chance_ , Roxie.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I am _so lucky to have you_.”

And he wasn’t just saying that.

 _Really_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may have been years since this was written but I think we're both still pretty proud of it. 
> 
> [And here's a final picture that suits the chapter](http://awfully-nice.deviantart.com/art/CUTIES-294911152/)


End file.
